^^^ofPfiTS^^^ 


%(>fiiCAL  »^ 


BX  5845  .W56  1841     . 
Winslow,  Benjamin  Davis, 

1815-1839. 
The  true  catholic  churchman, 

in  his  life,  and  in  his 


THE  TRUE  CATHOLIC  CHURCHMAN, 

IN  HIS  LIFE,  AND  IN  HIS  DEATH : 


JThe  Sermons  ant»  3|oetCcal  memaCns 

OF 

THE   REV.  BENJAMIN  DA  VIS%  INSLO  VV,  A.  M., 

ASSISTANT  TO  THE  RECTOR  OF  ST.  MARY'S  CHURCH,  BURLINGTON,  NEW  JERSEY  ; 

TO  WHICH  IS  PREFIXED 
THE  SERMON  PREACHED  ON  THE  SUNDAY  AFTER  HIS  DECEASE, 

WITH  NOTES  AND  ADDITIONAL  MEMORANDA, 

1"  . 
BY  ^ 

THE  RT.  REV.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  DOANE,  D.D,,LL.D., 

BISHOP  OF  THE  DIOCESE, 

AND  BECTOB  OF  ST.  MAKt's  CHITBCH. 


ISie'ai  Yoxk: 
WILEY    AND    PUTNAIVl 


M  DCCC  XLI. 


Yet  once  more,  O  ye  laurels,  and  once  more 

Ye  myrtles  brown,  with  ivy  never  sere, 

I  come  to  pluck  your  berries  harsh  and  crude, 

And  with  forced  fingers  rude 

Scatter  your  leaves  before  the  mellowing  year. 

Bitter  constraint,  and  sad  occasion  dear 

Compels  me  to  disturb  your  season  due : 

For  Lycidas  is  dead,  dead  ere  his  prime. 

Young  Lycidas,  and  hath  not  left  his  peer  : 

Who  would  not  sing  for  Lycidas  ]  he  knew 

Himself  to  sing  and  build  the  lofty  rhyme.  ***** 

we  were  nurst  upon  the  self-same  hill, 

Fed  the  same  flock,  by  fountain,  shade  and  rill. 

Together  both,  ere  the  high  lawns  appeared 

Under  the  opening  eye-lids  of  the  morn, 

We  drove  afield,  and  both  together  heard 

What  time  the  gray-fly  winds  her  sultry  horn, 

Battening  our  flock  with  the  fresh  dews  of  night, 

Oft  till  the  star  that  rose,  at  evening,  bright, 

Tow'rd  Heaven's  descent  had  sloped  his  westering  wheel. 

But  0  the  heavy  change,  now  thou  art  gone. 

Now  thou  art  gone,  and  never  must  return. — Milton. 


J.  L.  Powell,  Burlington,  New  Jersey- 


in  his  atfe,  unti  in  ixis  Btutii 


O  God,  whose  days  are  without  end,  and  whose 
mercies  cannot  be  numbered  ;  make  us,  we  be- 
seech thee,  deeply  sensible  of  the  shortness  and 
uncertainty  of  human  life;  and  let  thy  Holy 
Spirit  lead  us  through  this  vale  of  misery,  in 
holiness  and  righteousness,  all  the  days  of  our 
lives :  that,  when  we  shall  have  served  Thee 
in  our  generation,  we  may  be  gathered  unto 
our  fathers,  having  the  testimony  of  a  good 
conscience ;  in  the  communion  of  the  Catholic 
Church;  in  the  confidence  of  a  certain  faith; 
in  the  comfort  of  a  reasonable,  religious  and 
holy  hope;  in  favour  with  thee  our  God;  and 
in  perfect  charity  with  the  world:  all  which 
we  ask  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.   Amen. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  undersigned  thus  redeems  the  promise  of  the  obituary  notice 
of  his  scarcely  less  than  child — fulfilment  of  which  has  been  so 
often  claimed  of  him  by  those  whose  word,  if  his  own  heart  needed 
prompting,  would  be  law — that,  as  he  had  never  known  "a  man, 
whose  character  could  be  adopted,  to  depict  more  clearly  and  more 

fully,  THE  TRUE  CaTHOLIC  ChUECHMAN,  IN    HIS    LIFE    AND    IN    HIS 

death;"  so,  to  that  pious  duty,  should  it  please  God  to  give  him 
time  and  strength,  he  would  devote  himself,  "  as  the  best  service  he 
could  render  to  the  Church,  of  which  the  beloved  VVinslow,  even  at 
his  years,  was  a  pillar  and  an  ornament."  To  these  strong  words, 
forced  from  the  heart  in  the  first  gushing  of  its  grief,  time  and  re- 
flection have  but  given  greater  force  and  keener  sense  of  fitness ; 
while  the  universal  voice  has  but  confirmed,  as  literally  true,  the  re- 
cord, which  might  well  have  been  deemed  partial.  For  the  Church's 
sake,  therefore, — rather,  for  the  sake  of  them  for  whom  the  Church 
was  purchased  with  the  blood  of  Jesus;  that  they  may  see  what  are 
the  children  who,  in  deed  and  truth,  submit  to  be  trained  up,  and 
taught  by  her, — this  memorial  is  attempted  ;  with  a  hand  that  trem- 
bles yet,  from  its  heart-wound,  too  much  for  painter's  work,  and 
therefore  leaves  the  beautiful  Idea  to  depict  itself, 

,  George  W.  Doane. 

Riverside,  Feast  of  the  Purification,  1841. 


E-tte  smell  ot  Sprlnfl. 

{The  first  violets  of  the  year  seen  this  day,  March  4.] 

The  smell  of  Spring,  how  it  comes  to  us 

In  those  simple  wild-wood  flowers, 
With  memories  sweet  of  friends  and  home. 
When  never  a  cloud  on  our  sky  had  come, 

In  childhood's  cheerful  hours. 

The  smell  of  Spring,  how  it  comes  to  us 

In  that  cluster  of  pnrple  bloom. 
With  thoughts  of  the  loved  and  loving  One, 
Not  lost,  we  know,  but  before  us  gone, 

Whom  we  left  in  his  wintry  tomb.' 

The  smell  of  Spring,  how  it  comes  to  us 

In  the  violet's  fragrant  breath. 
With  beaming  hopes  of  that  brighter  shore. 
Where  flowers  and  friends  shall  fall  no  more, 
"  And  there  shall  be  no  more  death."^ 

G.  W.  U. 
Washington  City,  Ash  Wednesday,  1840. 

'  November  23,  1839.  2  Revelation  xxi.  4. 


<ll^.. 


TO  MY  WIFE, 

THIS  heart's  memorial, 

FOR  THE  DEAR  GRAVE  OF  HIM, 

WHO   WAS    ONLY    NOT    OUR    CHILD, 

INSCRIBES  ITSELF. 

WE  SHALL  GO  TO  HIM, 
BUT  HE  SHALL  NOT  RETURN  TO  US. 

BIYBRSIOE,    ALL     S  A  I  IT  T  S  '     OAT,    M  I)  C  C  C  X  L  . 


'^ 


Sjprinfl  STljougljts.' 

Dearest,  those  purple  flowers, 

They  seem  to  me  to  spring^ 
From  the  grave  of  him  whose  living  breast 
Was  wont  to  be  the  living  nest 

Of  each  beautiful  thought  and  thing. 

Dearest,  those  early  flowers, 

They  speak  to  me  of  him 
With  the  youthful  mind  so  richly  stored 
With  loftiest  themes,  and  as  freely  poured 

As  from  fountain's  bubbling  brim. 

Dearest,  those  fragrant  flowers, 

Are  odorous  of  his  life — 
The  gentle-hearted,  the  heavenly-willed 
With  the  choicest  grace  of  the  Holiest  filled — 

Where  loveliest  deeds  were  rife. 

Dearest,  they  breathe,  those  flowers. 

Of  the  land  where  he  takes  his  rest, 
Where  the  river  of  immortality  flows, 
With  our  White,  and  Hobart,  and  J  ebb,  and  Rose, 
And  all  that  he  loved  the  best. 

Dearest,  they  say,  those  flowers — 

Earth's  winter-womb's  first  born — 
"  So  shall  the  dead  in  Christ  arise, 
"  Heirs  of  the  world  beyond  the  skies, 

"  On  the  resurrection  morn  !"  G.  W.  D. 


1  With  the  first  violets  of  the  year,  the  thought  came  into  my  mind,  that  they 
sprang  from  Winslow's  grave. 

2 "  happier  thoughts 

"  Spring  like  unbidden  flowers  from  the  sod, 

"  Where  patiently  thou  tak'st 

"  Thy  sweet  and  sure  repose." — Keble,  in  Lyra  Apostolica. 


moo^iuQ  unto  3itHn^t 


THE  SERMON, 


NEXT  AFTER  THE  DECEASE  OF 


THE  REV.  BENJAMIN   DAVIS  WINSLOWj 


THE  RT.  REV.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  DOANE,  D.D.,  LL,D., 

BISHOP    OF    THE    DIOCBSE    OF    NEW     JERSEY, 
AND    HECTOR    OF    ST.  MARt's    CHURCH,  BURLINGTON. 


Oh  soothe  us,  haunt  us,  night  and  day. 
Ye  gentle  spirits  far  away, 
With  whom  we  shared  the  cup  of  grace, 
Then  parted;  ye  to  Christ's  embrace, 
We  to  the  lonesome  world  again: 
Yet  mindful  of  the  unearthly  strain 
Practised  with  you  at  Eden's  door, 
To  be  sung  on,  where  angels  soar, 
With  blended  voices  evermore. — Keble. 


SERMON. 


LOOKING    UNTO    JESUS. 

Hebrews  xii.  2. 

Scarcely  an  hour  before  that  dear  one,  whose  dust 
we  yesterday  committed  to  the  dust,  became  immor- 
tal, when  I  spoke  to  him  of  "the  Lamb  of  God, 
which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world,"  he  turned 
his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  with  emphatic  gesture  point- 
ed upward.  He  was  "looking  unto  Jesus."  He  had 
looked  to  Him,'through  all  his  life,  so  brief,  so  beauti- 
ful, as  "the  sacrifice  for  sin,"  not  only,  but  "an  en- 
sample  of  godly  living."  He  looked  to  Him  through 
all  the  stages  of  his  tedious  and  distressing  sickness, 
as  the  Author  of  his  faith,  and  the  source  of  his  con- 
solation. And,  in  the  hour  of  death,  when  his  flesh 
and  his  strength  failed  him,  with  heart,  and  eye,  and 
hand,  he  looked  to  Him,  his  crucified  Redeemer,  as 
the  God  of  his  salvation.  I  know  with  what  a  radi- 
ant glory  every  page  of  Holy  Scripture  is  invested, 
in  the  light  of  that  transcendent  truth,  Jesus  is  God  ! 
I  know  with  what  a  clear,  distinct,  and  trumpet 


Xll 

tone,  the  Church's  voice  has,  "through  the  ages  all 
along," ^  proclaimed  him  "God  of  God,  Light  of 
Light,  very  God  of  very  God."^  I  know  with  what 
resistless  eloquence  the  master  minds  of  our  theolo- 
gy have  set  forth  the  redemption  by  the  Cross ;  and 
with  what  unquestionable  arguments  they  have  de- 
monstrated the  offering  of  his  blood  there  made,  to 
be  "  a  full,  perfect,  and  sufficient  sacrifice,  oblation 
and  satisfaction  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world. "^ 
But  in  the  holy  life  of  that  young  man,  crowned  by 
a  death  so  holy;  and  in  the  simple  gesture,  so  sub- 
lime in  its  simplicity,  which  confided  all,  without  a 
word,  for  life,  and  death,  and  immortality,  to  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Cross,  I  feel  a  testimony  to  its  truth 
and  power,  which  words  can  never  bear :  and  I  come 
before  you,  my  beloved  brethren,  from  that  serene 
death-bed,  as  from  some  new  revealment  of  the  great 
atoning  sacrifice,  to  preach  unto  you,  with  new  ear- 
nestness, "Jesus  and  the  Resurrection;"  and  to  be- 
seech you,  with  new  importunity,  for  Christ's  sake, 
"be  ye  reconciled  to  God." 

"Looking  unto  Jesu§."  The  Apostle  does  not 
leave  these  words,  expressive  though  they  are,  to  any 
possibility  of  vague  or  doubtful  application.     They 


'  •'  Feni,  Creator,  Spiritus,"  in  the  offices  for  the  ordaining  of  Priests,  and 
consecration  of  Bishops. 

2  The  Niceue  Creed,  A.  D.  325.  3  Communion  Service. 


Xlll 

are  part  of  a  most  solemn  exhortation  to  the  Hebrew 
Christians,  towards  the  close  of  his  epistle  to  them. 
He  had  just  been  calling  up,  from  the  impressive  re- 
cords of  the  past,  the  storied  names  of  Abel,  and 
Enoch,  and  Noah,  and  Abraham,  and  Moses,  and 
David,  and  Samuel,  and  the  prophets,  and  others, 
whom  the  time  would  fail  him  but  to  tell,  who, 
through  faith,  had  overcome  the  world,  and  gone  re- 
joicing to  their  rest.  By  a  noble  stroke  of  eloquence 
— surpassing  far  that  celebrated  oath  of  the  Greek 
orator,  "By  those  at  Marathon!"^ — he  represents 
these  buried  saints  as  hanging  in  mid  air  above  the 
path  of  their  surviving  brethren,  militant  on  the 
earth,  in  breathless  interest  in  the  fitful  contest,  and 
burning  with  desire  to  see  them  "more  than  conquer- 
ors." "Wherefore  seeing  we  are  compassed  about 
with  so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  let  us  lay  aside 
every  weight,  and  the  sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset 
us,  and  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set 
before  us,  looking  unto  Jesus,  the  Author  and  Fin- 
isher of  our  faith,  who  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before 
him  endured  the  Cross,  despising  the  shame,  and  is 
set  down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  throne  of  God." 
Upon  this  wide  field  of  motive  and  of  precept,  of  ex- 
hortation and  of  consolation,  I  enter  not  at  large.     I 

'  Demosthenes  in  the  oration,  De    Corona,  cited  with    highest  praise  by 
Longinus,  in  his  treatise,  De  Sublimitatt. 


XIV 

select  from  it  a  point  or  two,  sufficient  for  our  present 
purpose.  "  Looking  unto  Jesus  ! "  "  Looking  unto 
Jesus,  the  Author,"  or,  as  the  margin  hath  it,  the 
Beginner,  "  and  the  Finisher  of  our  faith."  How 
comprehensive  the  description!  How  much  in  a 
few  words! 

Their  theme  is  faith; 

They  declare  Jesus  to  be  at  once  its  Author  and  its 
Finisher; 

They  teach  us  that  both  for  the  gift  and  its  rervard 
rve  are  to  look  to  him. 

1.  "Looking  unto  Jesus" — the  theme  of  these 
words  is  faith.  Ours  is  a  trusting  nature.  Faith  is 
its  real  Ufe.  Without  faith  it  is  dead.  What  other 
ground  of  intercourse  has  man  with  man?  What 
but  reliance  constitutes  the  endearment  of  the 
filial  tie?  In  what  but  mutual  confidence  are  the 
stability  and  comfort  of  the  marriage  compact  foun- 
ded? When  the  relation  is  transferred  from  man  to 
God,  our  moral  nature  does  not  change.  It  still  re- 
mains a  trusting^  nature.  Faith  is  the  medium  still 
between  the  soul  and  its  Creator.  "Without  faith," 
says  the  Apostle,  '4t  is  impossible  to  please  him."^ 
"He  that  believeth  on  the  Son,"  says  Jesus  Christ, 
"  hath  everlasting  life,  and  he  that  believeth  not  the 
Son,  shall  not  see  life,  but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth 

'  Hebrews  xi.  6. 


XV 

on  him.'"  So  of  necessity  it  is.  The  man  that  has 
no  confidence  in  man  thus  insulates  himself  from  all 
his  species,  and  is  alone  upon  the  earth.  And  he 
who  has  no  faith  in  God,  is  virtually  as  if  there  were 
no  God — "having  no  hope,  and  without  God,"  (lite- 
rally an  Atheist)  "in  the  world."^  On  the  other 
hand,  of  them  who  are  in  the  faith,  the  Scripture 
wearies  itself,  as  it  were,  in  terms  of  commendation 
and  encouragement.  They  "  walk  by  faith."  They 
"live  by  faith."  They  overcome  the  world,  and 
come  off  more  than  conquerors  by  faith.  Through 
all  the  trials  and  vicissitudes  of  life,  they  endure, 
"as seeing  Him  who  is  invisible:"  and,  being  "faith- 
ful unto  death,"  they  receive,  at  last,  the  crown  of 
immortality. 

2.  Now,  of  this  precious  faith,  of  which  such  ''glo- 
rious things  are  spoken,"  "Jesus,"  the  Apostle  tells 
us,  is  "the  Author  and  the  Finisher."  It  owes 
itself  to  him,  and  yet  in  him  it  finds  its  own  ex- 
ceeding great  reward.  He  is  the  Author  of  our 
faith.  Death  had  passed  upon  our  race,  as  the 
just  punishment  of  its  rebellion.  Our  sins  had  se- 
parated between  our  souls  and  God.  We  dare 
not  look  on  him  who  will  not  look  upon  iniquity. 
The  cry  of  our  whole  nature  was,  "Wherewithal 
shall   I   come   before   the   Lord?"    It   was   in   this 


2  St.  John  iii.  36.  »  Ephesiana  ii.  13. 


XVI 


emergency,  that  the  voice  was  heard,  '*  Lo,  I  come, 
to  do  thy  will,  O  God."     It  was  on  this  darkness 
that  might  be  felt,  that  the  Sun  of  righteousness 
arose.      As  the   first  dawning  of  the  cheerful  day 
gives  hope  and   confidence  to  the  benighted   tra- 
veller,  in    some    inhospitable    desert,   so    is  Jesus 
Christ,  the  "Author  of  our  faith,"  "the  day-spring 
from  on  high,"  "to  them  that  sit  in  darkness  and 
the  shadow  of  death."     The  hope  of  pardon  is  re- 
vealed.    The  path  of  duty  is  made  plain.     Foun- 
tains of  comfort  and   refreshment  cheer   the   way. 
And  heaven  unfolds  its  radiant  portals  to  the  long- 
ing eye.     And  lo,  "the  Author"  of  our  faith  waits 
there,   to  be  its   "Finisher''  and  its  Rewarder — to 
crown  us  for  a  triumph  not  our  own.     The  blessed 
Saviour,   who   came   from   Heaven,    "to   seek   and 
save  that  which  was  lost,"  has  gone  to  heaven,  "to 
prepare  a  place"  for  all  that  will  return  and  come 
to  him.     The  Lamb  of  God,  that  was  slain  to  take 
away  our  sins,  now  liveth  evermore,  to  be  our  In- 
tercessor with  the  Father,  "Jesus  Christ  the  righte- 
ous;"  the  same  who  also  is   "the  propitiation  for 
our  sins." 

3.  And  how  is  he  who  is  at  once  "the  Author 
and  the  Finisher  of  our  faith,"  won  to  our  help- 
lessness, and  made  sure  as  our  salvation?  Alas,  for 
our  poverty,  if  "the  gift  of  God"  were  to  be  "pur- 


XVll 


chased"  by  us  "with  money!"  Alas,  for  our  sin- 
fuhiess,  if,  through  *'  any  works  of  righteousness 
which  we  have  done,"  we  came  to  him  to  save  us! 
He  knew  our  helplessness  too  well.  His  thoughts 
to  us-ward  were  more  considerate  and  more  gracious. 
''As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the  wilderness," 
so  has  the  Son  of  man  been  "lifted  up"  upon  the 
Cross.  "Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved,"  the  voice 
from  heaven  proclaims  to  all  the  ends  of  the  earth 
"look  unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved;  for  I  am  God, 
and  there  is  none  else,  and  besides  me  there  is  no 
Saviour."  "  Looking  unto  Jesus,  the  Author  and 
Finisher  of  our  faith,"  with  the  meek  reliance  of  a 
trusting  heart,  our  sins  are  pardoned;  we  find  ac- 
ceptance "  in  the  Beloved ;"  we  are  made  more  and 
more  like  Him,  on  whom  we  look,  in  righteousness 
and  holiness;  the  victory  is  given  to  us,  through 
the  dear  might  of  Him  who  loved  us,  over  the  world 
and  sin  and  death.  "  Thanks  be  unto  God  who 
giveth  us  the  victory,  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord!"  Immortal  blessings  and  immortal  praise, 
that  by  the  grave  of  him  to  whom  our  souls  were 
bound  with  cords  of  love,  that  bleed  and  agonize  at 
every  pulse,  we  can  stand  up,  with  streaming  eyes, 
and  countenance  erect,  and  say,  "  Now" — even  now, 
in  nature's  most  afflicted  hour — "thanks  be  unto 
God,  who  giveth  us  the  victory,  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ!" 


XVlll 

Brethren  and  friends,  I  come  before  you  with  a 
bleeding  heart.  The  hand  of  God  is  heavy  on  me, 
with  an  unaccustomed  and  unlooked-for  stroke. 
When  I  brought  home  the  dear  child,  in  whose 
affectionate  bosom  I  had  held  for  years  a  parent's 
place,  it  was  in  all  my  thoughts  that  he  should  be 
my  fellow-helper  here  among  you,  while  I  lived; 
dividing  with  me  all  the  pastoral  cares,  and  dou- 
bling all  the  pastoral  joys.  And  that  when,  in  the 
due  course  of  nature,  he  had  closed  my  eyes,  and 
laid  my  mortal  portion  in  the  dust  of  our  sweet 
rural  resting  place  for  weary  travellers,  I  might  re- 
member, even  in  the  paradise  of  God,  with  holy 
satisfaction,  that  my  sheep  were  tended  by  a  shep- 
herd after  my  own  heart;  and  might  go  in  and  out, 
and  find  immortal  pasture,  in  the  prudent  guidance 
of  his  hand,  and  in  the  assiduous  self-devotion  of 
his  faithful  heart.  But  not  so  has  it  seemed  to  God. 
And  I,  whose  first  sad  office,  when  I  came  among 
you,  was  to  commit  to  earth  the  venerated  form  of 
him^  who  had  been  your  minister  in  holy  things,  for 
generation  after  generation,  have  now  been  called 
to  sepulchre  the  young,  the  lovely,  the  gifted,  the 
heavenly  minded  Winslow,  "  mine  own  son  in  the 


1  The  Rev.  Charles  H.  Wharton,  D.D.,  who  died,  July,  23,  1833,  aged, 
eighty-six  years ;  for  thirty-five  of  which  he  had  been  Rector  of  St.  Mary's 
Church. 


XIX 

faith,"  mine  own  son  in  the  unreserving  love  of  an 
adopting  father's  heart ;  and  to  perform  for  him  the 
melancholy  rites  which  I  had  looked  for  from  his 
hand.  I  stand  between  two  graves.  I  feel  that  the 
frail  earth  on  either  side  is  crumbling  towards  me. 
I  feel  that  soon  the  narrow  isthmus  that  sustains  me 
now  will  sink  beneath  me.  I  desire,  to-day,  to 
speak,  as  a  poor  dying  man,  to  dying  men.  I  desire 
to  look  through  his  grave  into  mine.  I  desire  to 
take  you.  brethren,  by  the  hand,  and  lead  you  in 
the  path  in  which  he  walked,  in  the  light  of  his 
serene  and  beautiful  example;  that  following  him 
together,  as  he  has  followed  Christ,  we  may  arise 
with  him  from  yonder  Church-yard:  and  "through 
the  grave  and  gate  of  death,  pass  to  our  joyful  resur- 
rection," still  "looking  unto  Jesus,"  "the  Finisher," 
then,  as  he  is  now,  "the  Author,  of  our  faith." 
Grant  it  to  us,  God  of  our  salvation,  for  thy  mercies' 
sake,  in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen  and  Amen. 
Benjamin  Davis  Winslow,^  was  born  in  Boston, 
Massachusetts,  on  the  thirteenth  of  February,  1815. 
My  acquaintance  with  him  began,  on  my  removal  to 
that  city,  in  1828,  as  the  Assistant  Minister  of  Trinity 
Church.  I  found  him  an  intellio^ent  and  thouo;htful 
boy,  with  a  mind  inquisitive  and  active  beyond  the 

'  He  was  the  son  of  Benjamin  Winslow,  merchant,  and  Abigail  Amory  Cal- 
lahan, daughter  of  Captain  John  Callahan. 


XX 

common  wont;'  and  even  then,  although  I  knew  it 
not,  producing  fruits  that  seldom  ripen  on  the  full 
grown  tree.  It  was  on  Advent  Sunday,  November 
28,  1830 — the  next  Sunday,  being  the  first  in  Ad- 
vent, will  complete  the  ninth  Ecclesiastical  or  Chris- 
tian  year,  the  measurement  by  which  he  always 

•  His  father  writes,  "  the  early  infancy  of  Benjamin,  was  remarkable  for  great 
originality,  bright  ideas,  and  remarks  beyond  hia  age."  And,  what  is  better  still 
than  this,  his  "  docility  of  disposition  was  such  that  little  or  no  complaint  was 
ever  made  by  any  person  having  the  care  of  him ;  and  I  never  knew  a  child  so 
'easily  controlled."  .  The  following  little  dialogue  is  remembered  as  taking  place 
between  him  and  a  younger  sister,  after  their  mother's  death,  when  he  was  a 
little  more  than  six  years  old. 

Benjamin.  "  Lucretia,  see  that  beautiful  star.  Dear  mother  is  up  there,  and 
her  spirit  is  looking  down  upon  us. 

Lucretia.  How  do  you  know,  Benjamin  1 

B.  Why,  dear  mother  said  all  good  people  went  up  above  to  God  ;  and  that 
He  was  pure  and  bright  like  the  stars. 

L.  Can  she  look  through  that  star  ? 

B.  Mother  said,  God  is  a  spirit,  and  could  see  every  thing,  and  know  every 
thing ;  and  that  those  who  love  him  would  see  as  far  as  he  can, 

L.  Can  mother  see  us  now  1 

B.  Mother's  spirit  can. 

//.  Why  cannot  mother  see  us  1 

B.  She  will,  when  we  are  dead,  and  go  to  her." 

Those  who  knew  him  well,  his  poetical  fancy,  and  his  loving  nature,  "  sick- 
lied o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought,"  will  feel  how  true  it  is,  "  the  boy  is  fa- 
ther of  the  man." 

The  playful  humour,  as  bright,  and  as  beautiful,  and  as  harmless,  as  the  heat- 
lightning  of  our  summer  skies,  in  which  he  excelled  all  men  I  ever  knew,  was 
also  developed  very  early  ;  as  when  he  said,  at  four  years  old,  to  a  venerable 
relative,  who  was  very  much  bent  with  years,  "  Aunt  Sally,  why  don't  you 
stoop  backwards .?" 


XXI 

loved  to  take  his  note  of  time — that  I  stood  up  with 
him,  as  his  God-father ;  when,  at  his  own  instance, 

The  following  is  the  earliest  poetical  composition  of  his  that  I  have  seen.  It 
was  written  at  ten  years  of  age.     It  certainly  has  character. 

I.  III. 

Death  has  set  his  seal  I  looked  towards  the  sky, 
On  all  that  earth  has  given  ;  And  it  was  wrapt  in  flame, 

But  then  for  some  'tis  well,  And  forth,  I  knew  not  why. 
For  death's  the  road  to  heaven.  The  King  of  terrors  came. 

II.  IT. 

The  warrior  on  the  field  doth  fall,  He  then  took  forth  a  seal; 

The  statesman  on  his  bed,  An  end  to  life  was  given  : 

And  priest  and  prince  and  peasant  all  The  end  for  some  was  well. 

Are  numbered  with  the  dead.  For  'twas  the  road  to  heaven. 

Of  his  early  years,  a  sufficient  notice  is  contained  in  the  customary  record  of 
the  graduating  class  at  the  University,  which  is  as  follows. 

"  Some  account  of  the  early  life  of  B.  D.  Winslow,"  extracted  from  the  class 
books  of  the  graduating  class,  of  1835,  "written  by  himself." 

'•On  the  13th  of  February,  1815, 1  commenced  myexistence — the  date  of  its 
termination  must  be  recorded  by  our  worthy  Secretary ;  or  some  other  brother 
who  shall  survive  :  always  provided,  that  I  myself  am  not  the  last  survivor  of 
the  class  of '35,  in  which  case  (altogether  however  improbable)  it  must  be  done 
by  some  one  not  enrolled  in  our  worthy  brotherhood.  But  to  my  life — like  all 
other  lives,  it  had  its  ups  and  downs,  its  lights  and  shadows.  My  path  has 
been  illumined  by  some  sunshine,  though  not  without  occasional  clouds;  and 
darkened  by  more  storms,  not  altogether  destitute  of  the  bow  of  hope  and  pro- 
mise. To  myself,  my  existence  has  been  rife  with  many  interesting  and  im- 
portant incidents,  which  to  others  would  be  altogether  destitute  of  interest.  If 
any  thing  in  this  world  is  stupid  and  meet  to  bore  a  man,  it  is  the  journal  of  a 
private  individual's  hopes  and  fears,  loves  and  hatreds,  passions  and  emotions ; 
and  the  other  thousand  matters  which  constitute  life — of  which  opinion 
being  thoroughly  persuaded,  I  shall  refrain  from  inflicting  any  such  relation 
upon  the  reader  (if  readers  there  should  be)  of  this  narration. 


XXll 

and  on  the  full  conviction  of  his  mind  and  heart,  he 
was  admitted  to  the  Church  of  God,  in  holy  baptism, 
in  Christ  Church,  Boston,  by  the  hands  of  its  beloved 
Rector,  the  Rev.  William  Croswell.  Thus,  in  the 
sixteenth  year  of  his  age — the  very  year  at  which 
good  Josiah  "began  to  seek  after  the  God  of  David, 
his  father" — did  our  dear  friend  devote  himself,  with 

I  remained  at  home,  among  my  household  gods,  till  the  age  of  8  or  9,  (I  have 
forgotten  which,)  when  for  my  health's  sake,  I  took  up  my  abode  in  the  country 
at  the  residence  of  Gen.  William  Hull,  Newton,  in  whose  delightful  family  I 
remained  nearly  a  year.  From  thence  I  winged  my  flight  to  another  rest,  viz: 
the  abode  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Ripley,  Waltham,  where  I  was  first  initiated  in 
the  rudiments  of  the  Latin  language,  and  those  other  mysteries  of  literature  and 
science,  in  the  pursuit  of  which,  I  have  since  so  distinguished  myself  at  our 
venerable  University.  At  the  expiration  of  two  years  I  left  Mr.  Ripley's  with 
much  regret,  and  returned  to  my  native  city,  Boston  ;  there,  under  the  tuition  of 
D.  G.  Ingraham,  Esqr. — a  name,  which  all  his  pupils  together  with  myself,  will 
ever  mention  with  respect  and  affection — I  remained  until  August,  1831,  when 
I  became  a  student  of  old  Harvard  (clarum  et  venerabile  nomen.)  Of  my  col- 
lege career ;  of  that  which  I  may  have  accomplished,  if  any  thing;  of  the  motives 
by  which  I  have  been  actuated  in  my  intercourse  with  my  class-mates,  it  be- 
comes others  to  speak  and  judge.  From  my  class-mates,  I  have  received  many 
testimonials  of  kindness  and  good  feeling,  for  which  I  shall  ever  feel  most 
grateful.  Deo  volente,  I  intend  to  be  a  clergyman  ;  and  if  nothing  happen,  in 
the  course  of  three  years,  I  shall  take  orders  in  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  : 
a  communion  to  which  I  have  ever  been  devoutly  attached,  in  whose  behalf  I  am 
ready  to  offer  whatever  talents  I  may  have  been  gifted  with,  and  whatever  know- 
ledge I  may  have  acquired,  or  shall  yet  gain.  So  much  for  my  life,  so  much 
for  my  future  prospects;  and  now,  nothing  remains  but  the  customary  bow,  the 
parting  grasp  of  the  hand — the  friendly,  the  long,  perhaps  the  last  farewell. 
That  all  my  class-mates  may  be  fortunate  and  happy,  beyond  what  they  desire 
or  ask,  is  the  sincere  wish  of  Benjamin  D.  Winslow. 

Harvard  University,  May   8th,  1835. 


'«.i 


XXlll 

purpose  of  heart/  to  cleave  unto  the  Lord;  and  thus 
was  that  spiritual  relationship  first  formed  between 
us,  which  ripened  into  the  most  perfect  confidence 
and  unreserving  love  that  ever  grew  between  a  father 

'  He  was  not  prone  to  speak  of  himself,  or  of  his  feelings.  The  power  of  his 
religion  was  apparent  in  the  "  daily  beauty  "  of  his  life.  But  a  few  passages 
from  some  of  his  early  letters,  may  well  be  inserted  here. 

To  his  most  intimate  friend,  he  writes,  AV^  York,  May,  26,  1836.  "You 
promised,  sometime,  to  write  your  views  upon  religion.    I  have  looked  for  this 

long,  earnestly,  and  with  great  interest.     Do  fulfil  your  promise,  my  dear ! 

For  what  more  noble  subject  can  two  true  friends  converse  or  correspond  about  ? 
I  have  always  feared,  even  with  you,  to  introduce  the  subject,  lest  I  should  do 
some  injury  to  a  cause  which  I  have  much  at  heart.  But  it  is  my  constant 
prayer,  that  we  may  both  be  led  into  all  truth  :  and  that  having  as  friends,  pas- 
sed together,  with  hearts  firmly  knit,  through  all  the  changes  and  chances  of 
time,  we  may  be  friends  in  and  for  eternity.  Is  there  not  something  sublime 
in  the  thought  of  such  a  friendship  1     God  grant  that  it  may  be  ours  !" 

And  again,  JVew  York,  January  5,  1837.  "  I  passed  the  Christmas  holi- 
days at  Burlington.  You  heretics  have  no  conception,  how  much  hearty  old- 
fashioned  honest  pleasure,  we  orthodox  churchmen  extract  from  our  various 
festivals,  especially  from  that  of  Christmas.  The  music,  the  Church  service, 
the  beautiful  custom  of  decking  the  houses  and  Churches  with  evergreens,  the 
social  mirth  and  festivity,  the  calling  forth  of  the  fire-side  affections  and  sympa- 
thies, all  combine  to  make  that  day  the  holiest  and  the  happiest  of  the  year.  I 
wish  that  we  could  have  passed  that  holiday  together.  ******  Jn  your 
last,  you  say,  that  you  must  have  excitement;  and  so  mean  to  go  to  all  the 
parties  and  balls  of  the  gay  season.  Confident  as  I  am,  that  that  sort  of  ex- 
citement is  unhealthy,  and  leaves  the  soul  in  a  worse  state,  than  it  finds  it,  still 
you  know,  that  I  never  undertake  to  obtrude  my  peculiar  views  and  feelings 
upon  any  one  unasked,  even  upon  my  dearest  friend.     Permit  me  however,  to 

say,  dear ,  that  you  were  made  for  something  better,  purer,  more  enduring 

than  worldly  amusements.  *****  I  beg  of  you  to  read  what  the  Saviour  said 
about  the  world ;  and  the  principles  of  the  <  world ;'  and  also  what  he  said  to 
that  '  young  man,'  endowed  with  various  and  beautiful  mental,  moral,  and  per- 


XXiV 

and  his  child.  Never  had  I  to  regret  the  Christian 
responsibihty  which  I  then  assumed.  Never  had  I 
to  "put  him  in  mind  v^hat  a  solemn  vow,  promise 
and  profession  he  had  made  before  that  congrega- 
tion, and  especially  before"  me  "his  chosen  wit- 
ness."^ Never  had  I  to  "call  on  him  to  use  all  dili- 
gence to  be  rightly  instructed  in  God's  holy  word, 
that  so  he  mi^^ht  orrow  in  orrace  and  in  the  know- 
ledge  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  live  godly, 
righteously,  and  soberly  in  this  present  life."^  From 


haps  physical  graces,  whom  when  He  beheld,  He  loved  him;  and  yet,  was 
obliged  to  tell  him,  *  One  thing  thou  lackest.'  " 

And  again,  St.  J\Iari/'s  Parsonage,  Burlington,  January  20,  1839.  "  Your 
last  letter  called  forth  my  deepest  sympathy ;  for  I  have  at  times  myself,  been 
in  the  very  state  which  you  describe,  unable  to  take  an  interest  in  any  thing. 
With  me  it  is  the  result  of  a  deranged  physical  system,  though  not  always.  I 
believe  myself  that  disgust  and  discontent  proceed  in  a  good  degree,  and  oftener 
than  we  think,  from  the  insufficiency  of  any  thing  earthly  to  fill  the  soul.  We 
all  have  a  longing  for  the  beautiful,  for  something  perfect.  We  all  have  our 
ideals  and  our  idols.  But  they  do  not  please  us  long  or  much.  The  secret  is 
this,  God  made  the  heart  for  himself,  and  it  is  restless  until  it  rests  in  Him. 

What  I  would  advise  you  to  do,  dearest ,  as  a  remedy  for  your  ennui  and 

wretchedness,  is  to  seek  to  know  the  Eternal  One,  and  to  do  His  will.  Strip 
this  thought  of  all  the  sameness  with  which  cant  and  dulness  have  clothed  it, 
and  you  have  the  most  sublime  work  that  an  immortal  spirit  can  do.  To  know 
the  Lord  of  Hosts,  to  make  him  your  friend,  to  despise  every  thing  in  compari- 
son with  God,  is  not  this  worthy  of  the  greatest  moral  and  mental  powers  ? 
Think  not  that  these  are  penned  as  words  of  course.  They  are,  '  the  words  of 
truth  and  soberness.' " 

'  Exhortation  to  the  God-fathers  and  God-mothers,  in  the  office  for  "  the 
ministration  of  baptism  to  such  as  are  of  riper  years." 


XXV 

that  laver  of  regeneration/  in  which  he  was  "born 
again,"  and  made  the  child  of  God,  he  went  still  for- 
ward, through  renewing  grace;  "increasing,"  like 
the  holy  Pattern  of  all  piety,  "in  wisdom,  and  sta- 
ture, and  in  favour  with  God  and  man,"  till  he  be- 
came w^hat  you  have  seen  and  known  him — and, 
what  I  have  felt,  with  the  instinctive  selfishness  of 
nature,  too  much  for  me  to  lose.  But  "precious  in 
the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  his  saints;"  and 
to  Him  who  giveth  all  to  us,  it  were  unworthy  in  us 
to  grudge  even  the  most  precious. 

It  was  in  the  next  year  that  he  went  to  the  Uni- 
versity. The  prevailing  interest  at  Harvard  is  what 
is  called  Unitarianism.  The  prevailing  influence  in 
every  Collegiate  institution  is  too  apt  to  be  worldli- 
ness  and  thoughtlessness  of  God.  And  yet,  through 
this  two-fold  ordeal — the  one  tending  to  undermine 
his  principles,  the  other  to  corrupt  his  practice — he 
passed,  unscathed  not  only,  but  brighter  and  purer 
for  the  fires.  He  maintained,  through  the  whole 
of  his  Collegiate  life,  the  character  and  influence  of 
a  devout  communicant;  having  been  admitted  such, 
as  he  has  beautifully  recorded,  on  Easter  day,  1832.^ 
He  maintained,  through  his  whole  Collegiate  life,  the 

'  Titus  iii.  5;  St.  John  iii.  3,  5;  Church  Catechism;  Baptismal  Service. 
'  "Communed,  for  the  first  time,  in  Christ  Church,  Boston,  Easter  day,  18.32; 
the  Rev.  WiiUam  Croswell,  being  the  officiating  Priest." — Private  Record. 
D 


XXVI 


principles  and  usages  of  a  Catholic  Churchman.  He 
was  never  absent  from  the  house  of  prayer  on  any 
holy  day  of  the  Christian  year.  And  he  gathered 
about  him  a  little  company  of  like  minded  youths, 
who  statedly  assembled  in  his  chamber,  for  improve- 
ment in  religious  knowledge  and  in  spiritual  devo- 
tion. They  were  the  pious  Churchmen  of  the  Col- 
lege, and  he  was  the  centre  about  which  they  re- 
volved. And  yet  he  never  alienated,  by  his  severe 
integrity  of  character,  one  member  of  the  Institu- 
tion.^ The  gayest  of  the  gay,  the  most  thoughtless 
of  the  thoughtless,  courted  his  society.  He  won 
them  to  him  by  his  gentle,  loving  nature.  He  kept 
them  about  him  by  his  sweet  and  playful,  yet  always 
sober,  dignified,  and  instructive  conversation.  He 
commanded  their  respect  by  the  vigour  of  his  intel- 


•His  love  of  the  University  was  passionate,  and  he  never  tired  of  writing  or 
discoursing  of  the  pleasures  of  his  college  life,  "  I  still  retain,"  he  writes  to  his 
father,  JVew  York,  February,  11th,  1836,  "all  my  affection  for  old  Harvard, 
and  would  give  all  the  world,  if  I  had  it  to  give,  to  be  back  there.  In  my  waking 
dreams,  and  in  my  sleeping  visions,  I  frequently  am  there  in  spirit — wander  by 
moonlight  about  those  old  classic  shades ;  pursue  my  former  studies ;  and,  above 
all,  hold  sweet  communion  with  the  cherished  friends  of  my  college-days.  As 
for  this  unintellectual,  dirty,  money-making,  mammon-devoted  city,  I  dislike  it 
more  and  more.  Oh,  for  Cambridge,  and  its  soothing,  literary  influences  !  But 
this  may  not  be.  And  it  is  the  student's,  above  all,  the  Christian  student's, 
duty  to  improve  his  mind,  and  be  contented,  wherever  Divine  Providence  may 
see  fit  to  place  him." 


xxvu 

lect,  and  the  variety  and  beauty  of  his  acquirements. 
He  maintained  their  confidence  by  his  habitual  self- 
respect,  his  disinterested  benevolence,  his  fear  of 
God  that  knew  no  other  fear,  his  meek,  serene,  un- 
ostentatious, and  yet  radiant  piety — shining  out 
among  them,  even  as  the  face  of  Moses  shone,  when 
he  came  down  from  God,  and  yet,  himself,  like  Mo- 
ses, unconscious  of  its  splendour.  When  a  young 
member  of  the  University,  of  great  promise,  was 
taken  from  life,^  he  was  elected  by  all  the  Classes  to 
deliver  the  eulogy.  When  honours  were  assigned 
to  his  own  Class,  or  to  the  two  Classes  which  unite 
in  some  of  the  Collegiate  exhibitions,  he  always  had 
an  honourable  share.  And,  but  the  other  day,  the 
President  of  the  University,  lamenting  bitterly  the 
prospect  of  his  untimely  taking-off,  emphatically 
said.  When  he  was  here,  we  all  regarded  him  as  the 
pillar  of  the  University.  Like  Daniel,  at  Babylon, 
he  not  only  held  fast  his  own  integrity,  but  strength- 
ened and  brought  honour  on  the  state  of  which  he 
was  a  member ;  and  caused  his  Church  and  God  to 
be  acknowledged  as  the  living  and  the  true.  Truth, 
my  beloved  brethren,  is  almighty  power.  Even  in 
a  wicked  world,  virtue  is  irresistible.  True  Chris- 
tian piety  is  light  from  heaven ;  beautiful  in  itself, 

•  Mr.  HofTreian,  of  Baltimore. 


XXVlll 

and  beautifying,  and  felt  as  beautifying,  every  object 
upon  which  it  falls. 

From  the  University,  which  he  left  in  1835,  he 
came  to  me.  As  he  had  been  my  spiritual  son 
before,  so  now  he  became,  so  far  as  nature  would, 
my  son  according  to  the  flesh.  He  grew  up  together 
with  me,  and  with  my  children.  He  did  eat  of  my 
meat,  and  drank  of  my  cup,  and  lay  in  my  bosom, 
and  was  unto  me  as  a  child.  And  never  did  com- 
munity of  blood  enkindle  an  affection  more  warm, 
more  true,  more  fond,  than  his  for  me.^  He  has  left 
none  behind,  I  well  believe,  who  loved  me  with  a 
fuller  and  more  fervent  love ;  and  I  could  illy  bear 
to  lose  it  from  the  earth,  did  I  not  well  believe  that 
it  now  springs,  immortal,  as  his  redeemed,  trans- 
formed and  glorious  nature. 

"They  sin  who  tell  us  love  can  die; 
With  life  all  other  passions  fly, 
All  others  are  but  vanity  ; " 
"  But  love  is  indestructible, 
Its  holy  flame  forever  burneth, 
From  Heaven  it  came,  to  Heaven  returneth."2 

From  the  time  of  his  baptism,  he  had  devoted 

'  Just  as  it  would  be  to  him,  /  may  not  here  record  the  deep  expressions  of  his 
grateful  love  for  me  and  mine,  in  letters  to  his  father,  and  his  other  friends. 
Let  it  suffice  to  say,  they  were  the  overflowing  fulness,  and  the  glowing  fervour 
of  a  heart,  as  full  and  fervent  as  beat  ever  in  a  mortal's  breast;  and  far  outran 
the  measure  of  that  love  for  him,  which  overpaid  itself. 

2  Southey,  Curse  of  Kehama.     The  whole  passage  is  most  exquisite. 


XXIX 


himself,  should  it  please  God  to  accept  the  offering, 
to  the  ministry  of  the  Church  :  fulfilling  thus,  I  have 
no  doubt,  the  "heart's  desire  and  prayer  to  God"  of 
his  most  affectionate  and  pious  mother,  lost  to  him 
when  he  was  little  more  than  six  years  old ;  and 
ever  remembered  by  him  with  the  most  touching 
tenderness.^     So  unreserving  was  this  dedication  of 


'He  constantly  referred  to  her,  in  all  his'letters,  with  the  strongest  terms  of 
love.  The  following  letter  to  a  sister  illustrates  the  sweet  and  radiant  playful- 
ness of  his  nature. 

"JVeiu  York,  March  16,  1837. 
"I  have  been  reading  Mother's  letters  very  much  of  late,  which  I  hope  you 
often  do.  How  many  things  in  them  bring  you  to  my  mind  —you  are  so  often 
spoken  of  as  '  little  Fudge,'  and  by  an  hundred  endearing  appellations.  I 
perfectly  shouted  with  laughter  and  delight  over  one  incident  of  your  very  early 
life.  The  evening  of  a  day  on  which  Father  went  to  New  York,  Mother  says 
that  you  prayed  that  he  might  come  back  the  next  day;  and  you  took  care  to 
add — sly  little  rogue  as  you  were — a  petition  that  Father  might  bring  the  pre- 
sents, and  that  yours  might  be  a  little  Bible.  This  incident  amused  me  ex- 
ceedingly. However,  dear,  the  last  part  of  it  was  truly  pleasing.  I  hope,  and 
pray,  dear,  that  you  will  always  love  the  Bible  as  much  as  you  did  theri.  In 
great  haste,  and  greater  love,  most  affectionately  your  brother, 

Benjamin  Davis  Winslow." 
The  following,  to  the  same  sister,  is  worthy  of  recording,  for  its  wholesome 
counsels.     They  may  have   greater  influence  with  youthful  minds,  for  having 
been  written  at  twenty  one. 

"JV'ew  York,  January  10,  1836. 
"  How  do  you  pass  the  time  at  Roxbury,  generally  ?     When  you  write,  give 
me  some  account  of  it.     I  hope  you  read,  daily,  beside  the  Bible,  some  stand- 
ard works  in  History,  Poetry,  &c.  You  ought  to  do  this,  my  dear ,  because 

it  is  the  only  way  to  keep  the  mind  in  a  proper  state.     Study  is  as  necessary 


XXX 

himself  to  the  sacred  office,  that  he  from  that  time 
steadfastly  withdrew  himself  from  all  the  questiona- 
ble amusements  of  the  world :  replying  to  one  who 
spoke  to  him  of  the  theatre,  "No,  I  have  put  my 
foot  down  to  be  a  minister  of  Christ,  and  I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  that." 

He  was  admitted  in  October,  1835,  a  member  of 
the  General  Theological  Seminary,  on  the  Bishop 
Croes  Scholarship,  in  the  gift  of  the  Bishop  of  the 
Diocese.^     During  his  residence  there,  as  at  the  Uni- 


to  the  growth,  nay,  the  very  life  of  the  mind,  as  food  to  the  body — and  if  the 
mind  be  not  cultivated,  it  will  run  to  a  most  ruinous  waste.  Beside,  this  is, 
perhaps,  your  only  chance  for  such  mental  improvement.  Moreover,  I  do  like 
to  see  all  ladies,  not  blues,  exactly,  but  intelligent  and  well  improved  upon 
general  topics.  If,  too,  young  ladies  would  read  and  study  more  than  they  do, 
they  would  have  it  in  their  power  to  do  much  towards  elevating  the  character 
of  society." 

1 1  subjoin  here  some  extracts  from  letters  written  ;hy  him,  while  at  the 
Seminary,  rather  to  show  his  affectionateness  of  disposition,  and  subdued, 
yet  cheerful  piety,  than  for  any  peculiar  literary  merit.  He  disliked  letter-writ- 
ing, and  thought  himself  unsuccessful  in  it. 

From  a  Letter  to  his  Father. 

"  Yesterday  was  Thanksgiving  day  in  Massachusetts.  I  thought  of  the 
family  party  assembled,  with  more  absentees  than  on  any  former  occasion. 
These  meetings  become  really  sad  at  last.  Families  get  so  broken  up.  Mem- 
ber after  member  departs.  Until  at  last,  only  a  lingering  few  remain.  Happy, 
thrice  happy,  shall  we  all  be,  if,  when  '  the  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  is 
dissolved,'  we  may  be  re-united  among  the  great  family  of  those  who  have  been 
redeemed,  and  washed  from  all  pollution  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  I  trust  that 
the  absentees  were  remembered ;  and  that  Virginia,  Sonth  Carolina,  New  York, 


.^- 


XXXI 


versity,  he  was  distinguished  for  the  attractiveness 
of  his  society  and  for  the  influence  of  his  character : 


and  the  wide  ocean,  were  each  the  shrine  of  some  friendly  heart's  pilgrimage." 

To  the  same. 

"  You  have  doubtless  heard  of  the  horrible  murder,  which  occurred  lately  in 
a  licentious  house  in  this  city.  Oh  what  a  city  this  is  !  I  had  no  idea  of  the 
depth  and  extent  of  man's  depravity,  until  I  came  here.  Yet  this  knowledge 
should,  and  I  hope  does,  excite  me  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  spread  abroad  in 
the  world,  that  system  which  sets  forth  Jesus  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  sinners, 
even  of  the  chief.  Bad  as  the  world  is,  what  would  it  be  without  the  GospeH" 
To  the  same,  in  much  affliction. 

"  The  other  night  I  was  awake,  thinking  of  you,  and  regretting  that  I  could 
not  be  with  you,  when  suddenly  the  blessed  thought  came  over  me,  that  God 
is  present  with  us  both  ;  so  that  in  Him,  and  by  Him,  we  are  together  !  Think 
of  this  sometimes,  my  dear  father.  The  cup  proffered  you  is  bitter,  and  one  from 
which  you  might  well  pray,  in  the  words  of  our  Saviour,  to  be  delivered ;  and 
yet,  the  cup  which  our  Father  gives  us,  shall  we  not  drink  iti" 

To  the  same. 

"  I  begin  to  believe  that  the  season  for  forming  real  friendships,  has  gone  by, 
and  that  henceforth  I  must  be  lonely  in  life.  And,  yet,  not  alone,  \ithe  one  Friend 
be  with  me.  How  wisely  has  it  been  ordered,  that  human  sympathy  should  be 
imperfect,  that  human  friendship  should  be  uncertain ;  since  otherwise  we 
should  pour  out  all  our  affections  on  earthly  objects,  and  never  seek  for  that 
friendship  which  is  better  than  life." 

To  his  friend. 

"We  have  very  recently  had  a  death  in  our  family  in  Boston.  One  of  my 
aunts,  and  one  of  the  best  women  that  ever  lived.  She  was  very  strongly  at- 
tached to  me,  and  would  have  done  any  thing  in  the  world  for  me.  It  is  a  sad 
thing  to  know  that  one  of  the  few  hearts  that  beat  truly  and  warmly  to  my 
own,  is  still  and  cold.  But  it  is  a  blessed  thing  to  realize,  that  there  is  another 
soul  in  the  Paradise  of  God,  that  it  may  be,  watches  and  prays  for  my  welfare, 
and  waits  for  the  day  of  my  coming  to  the  eternal  mansions." 

The  aunt  of  whom  he  speaks,  was  one  of  three  maiden  sisters  of  his  mother, 


XXXll 


devoting  his  time  and  strength  most  assiduously  to 
the  attainment  of  that  sound  learnincr  which  would 


upon  whom,  after  her  death,  much  had  devolved  for  the  care  of  her  infant  child- 
ren ;  and  to  whom  he  never  could  sufficiently  express  his  sense  of  gratitude  for 
the  principles,  which,  through  their  influence  mainly,  he  had  imbibed.  "  What 
a  comfort  it  is,"  he  writes  to  them,  on  the  occasion  of  their  sister's  death,  "when 
we  feel  how  poor  the  consolation  we  can  give,  to  know  that  there  is  one  with 
you,  who  'will  not  leave  you  comfortless  !'  And  what  a  privilege  it  is  to  friends, 
who  are  separated  in  times  of  affliction,  to  be  permitted  to  pray  for  each  other ! 
I  commend  you  to  Him  who  once  breathed  into  the  ears  of  the  afflicted  sisters 
of  Bethany,  '  I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  life !'  May  He  comfort  us  all !" 
It  was  to  the  eldest  of  these  aunts,  that  at  a  former  date,  Easter  Eve,  1833,  he 
had  addressed  this  beautiful  and  characteristic  note.  "  My  dear  Aunt,  I  am 
exceedingly  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  and  acceptable  gift — rendered  still 
more  so,  by  being  presented  on  a  day  hallowed  by  so  many  thrilling  recollec- 
tions; being  the  anniversary  of  our  blessed  Saviour's  cross  and  passion,  and  of 
the  death  of  my  dear  mother,  I  thank  you  for  the  interest  you  take  in  my 
temporal  and  eternal  welfare;  and  I  take  this  occasion  to  say,  that  from  your- 
self and  from  your  sisters,  I  received  the  first  serious  impressions  of  those  things 
which  belong  to  my  everlasting  peace.  That  the  sorrows  and  afflictions  which 
now  so  closely  surround  you,  may  continue  but  '  for  the  night,'  and  that  joy 
may  come  in  '  in  the  morning,'  is  the  sincere  prayer  of  your  aflTectionate  ne- 
phew."— His  pious  prayer  was  answered  in  due  time,  in  the  dispersion  of  the 
cloud  to  which  he  made  allusion  ;  and  he  lived  to  rejoice  in  the  light,  "  as  the 
light  of  seven  days,"  with  which  it  pleased  the  All-giver  to  replace  its  baleful 
gloom.  On  one  occasion  he  wrote  thus  of  it  to  his  aunts.  "I  had  a  most  de- 
lightful time  at .     seems,  and  is,  perfectly  well  and  happy.     What  a 

change  from  last  spring !  Can  we  be  too  thankful  to  our  Heavenly  Father  for 
this  great  mercy  !  Truly  can  we  exclaim,  The  hand  of  God  is  in  this  !  I 
should  almost  be  tempted  to  believe  that  our  blessed  Saviour  was  once  more 
upon  the  earth,  and  had  stood  in  that  dwelling,  and  caused  peace  and  light  to  arise 
from  sorrow  and  gloom.  Let  us  pray  fervently  that  this  blessing  may  be  con- 
tinued to  us !" 


XXXlll 


qualify  him  to  be  an  "able  minister  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament;" and  in  all  his  life  and  conversation,  by 
word,  and  deed,  and  good  example,  sustaining  the 
character  of  the  Church,  which  was  the  adoption  of 
his  heart,  upon  the  full  conviction  of  his  mind,  and 
exercising  on  all  around  him  the  most  salutary  in- 
fluence for  truth  and  order,  for  holiness  and  piety, 
for  harmony  and  charity.  There  are  those  here,  who, 
in  that  school  of  the  prophets,  lived  with  him,  as  dai- 
ly companions  and  familiar  friends:  and  one,^  espe- 
cially, the  sharer  of  his  room  and  of  his  heart — whom 
he  loved  with  an  own  brother's  love,  and  who  re- 
turns it  all — who  will  attest,  as  you  have  heard  this 
morning,  the  power  which  he  exerted  there.  And, 
of  the  value  of  the  acquirements  which  he  made,  his 
ripe  and  mellow  scholarship;  his  terse  and  vigorous 
style,  with  all  the  strength  and  practice  of  a  man,  in 
prime  of  mind;  his  apt  and  cogent  application  of  the 
word  of  truth;  his  clear  and  lucid  reasonings;  his 
manly  and  affectionate  appeals;  his  lofty,  spirit-stir- 
ing  exhortations  to  the  faith  and  practice  of  the  Gos- 
pel; his  beautiful  and  touching  applications  of  the 
institutions,  services  and  usages  of  the  Church — 
you,  my  brethren,  are  well  fitted  to  be  judges:  and 
if  your  hearts  have  not  felt  their  power,  and  your 

'  The  Rev.  Frederick  Ogilby,  who  preached  in  St.  Mary's  Church,  in  the 
morning. 


XXXIV 

lives  do  not  exemplify  their  worth,  it  would  be  bet- 
ter for  you,  in  the  hour  when  he  shall  look  among 
you  for  the  seals  of  his  brief  ministry,  that  you 
never  had  been  born. 

Daily  sensible  how  much  I  needed  some  one  to 
assist  me  in  the  duties  of  this  parish,  added  as  they 
are,  in  my  case,  to  the  care  of  all  the  Churches  of 
the  Diocese;  and  well  convinced  how  useful  he 
would  be  to  me  and  you,  even  as  a  lay  assistant, 
I  took  him  from  the  Seminary,  before  his  course 
was  ended.     From  that  day,^  until  it  pleased  God 


'  This  was  a  happy  day  for  him.  Personal  as  its  expressions  are,  I  cannot 
exclude  the  expression  of  his  joy  in  this  arrangement,  as  expressed  to  his  dear- 
est College  friend. 

"At  last,  my  return  to  New  York  is  entirely  given  up ;  and  I  am  to  finish 
my  studies  in  Burlington,  under  the  Bishop.  I  am  comfortably  and  delight- 
fully settled,  with  every  thing  about  me  to  make  me  happy.     Imagine  me,  dear 

,  from  day  to  day,  seated  at  my  old  desk,  in  the  Bishop's  study,  surrounded 

by  a  glorious  Library,  and  ever  drinking  from  the  richest  fountains  of  profane 
and  sacred  literature.  When  I  am  tired  of  books,  then  I  can  go  out  and  walk, 
and  breathe  the  fresh  air,  untainted  by  the  exhalations  of  a  city.  And  when 
out-door  amusements  fail,  I  can  come  to  the  domestic  fire-side,  and  feel  myself 

one  of  a  happy  family  circle.     So, ,  henceforth  your  old  friend,  Ben,  hails 

from  Burlington,  New  Jersey." 

I  verily  believe  there  never  was  a  happier  man  than  he  was  at  this  period : 
and  all  the  more  so,  as,  to  the  studies  and  social  pleasures,  of  which  he  speaks 
with  such  a  zest,  he  added  useful  practical  duties,  as  I  have  stated  in  the  text. 
At  this  time,  he  writes  to  his  Father  thus.  "  My  time  is  very  pleasantly  occu- 
pied here ;  and  I  think  that  I  am  much  better  in  bodily  health  than  in  New 
York.    I  visit  a  great  deal  among  the  plainer  class  of  people,  and  see  much  to 


XXXV 


to  lay  his  heavy  hand  upon  him,  his  life  was  given 
all  to  yon;  and,  in  the  humble  sphere  of  Catechist, 
he  performed  services,  and  accomplished  results, 
such  as  very  few  attain,  even  in  the  ministry  of  the 
Church.  Of  his  unwearied  assiduity  in  the  instruc- 
tion of  your  children ;  of  his  unsparing  self-devotion 
in  visiting  and  comforting  the  sick  and  the  afflicted ; 
of  his  swift  foot  on  every  errand  of  benevolence ;  of 
his  quick  hand  in  every  work  of  mercy;  of  his  kind 
voice  in  every  hour  of  trial  or  of  trouble,  who  does 
not  know?  Who  that  has  needed  its  experience  has 
not  been  himself  partaker?  He  shrunk  from  no  ef- 
fort, however  greater  than  his  strength ;  he  felt  su- 
perior to  no  office,  however  unusual  to  his  rank  of 


awaken  my  sympathy  with  poor  human  nature.  What  a  frail,  suffering  thing 
it  is!  I  am  sure,  '  I  would  not  live  alway  !'  I  have  been,  of  late,  by  several 
death-beds,  and  witnessed  the  last  hours  of  several  who  have  died  in  faith  and 
peace.  Sometimes  I  think,  after  having  been  in  sick  rooms,  and  heard  the  for- 
cible remarks  of  those  who  realize  the  nothingness  of  things  temporal,  that  I 
will  never  again  give  a  thought,  or  an  affection,  to  this  present  world.  But  it 
has  its  charms,  and  especially  for  the  young.  Suffering  weans  us  from  it,  if 
we  receive  it  rightly.  But  how  much  better  to  renounce  it,  when  it  seems 
bright  and  fair,  for  the  love  of  God  !     That  is  the  true  wisdom." 

It  was  at  this  time  that  an  eye  witness,  well  qualified  to  judge,  thus  wrote  of 
him.  "  I  know  not  what  we  should  do  now  in  our  parish,  without  dear  Ben.  He 
is  so  useful  in  the  Sunday  School,  so  acceptable  in  his  intercourse  with  all,  so 
kind  to  the  poor,  so  attentive  to  the  aged,  so  considerate  to  the  young,  so  strictly 
correct  in  his  deportment,  and  so  bright  and  consistent  in  the  Christian  exam- 
ple he  furnishos." 


XXXVl 

life,  that  ministered  to  human  suffering.  He  en- 
countered storms,  he  travelled  miles,  he  bore  oppres- 
sive burdens,  that  he  mio-ht  cheer  the  couch  of  sick- 
ness,  and  console  the  abode  of  poverty.  He  added 
nights  of  watching  to  days  of  toil,  that  he  might  as- 
suage the  cheerlessness,  and  comfort  the  loneliness  of 
disease  and  want.  And  once,  when  he  w^as  sick 
himself,  and  should  have  been  in  his  own  bed,  he 
absolutely  stole  away  from  me,  lest  I  should  not  per- 
mit him,  in  his  weakness,  that  he  might  watch  by 
the  corpse  of  a  negro  boy,  whose  friends  he  feared 
miofht  have  their  feelino^s  hurt,  if  he  declined  the  of- 
fice.  All  this  time  he  was  the  most  industrious  stu- 
dent that  I  ever  knew ;  and  when  he  came  to  be  ex- 
amined for  deacon's  orders,  a  venerable  Presbyter,^ 
now  before  me,  familiar  for  forty  years  with  such 
examinations,  declared  that  his  was  the  best  he  had 
ever  attended.  Before  that  sacred  rail,  he  kneeled, 
on  Whitsunday,  of  1838,  to  receive  at  my  hands  the 
office  and  authority  of  Deacon ;  and  never,  since  the 
saintly  Stephen,  I  am  well  persuaded,  has  one  en- 
tered on  it  with  a  lower  estimate  of  self,  or  with  a 
purer  self-devotion  to  its  duties^ — never  did  one  by 


'  The  Rev.  Dr.  Eaton. 

~  To  his  Father,  he  wrote,  on  this  occasion.  "St.  Mary's  Parsoiiage,  June 
il,  1838.  The  ordination  took  place  in  St.  Mary's  Church,  on  Whitsund.-jy, 
June  3d,  and  a  most  interesting  occasion  il  was.     The  Bishop  preached,  and 


XXXV  u 

"the  modesty,  humility  and  constancy  of  his  minis- 
trations," his  ''ready  will  to  observe  all  spiritual  dis- 
cipline," and  "the  testimony  of  a  good  conscience,"' 
approve  himself  more  v^orthy  to  be  called  unto  those 
"higher  ministeries,"  v^hich  Jesus  has  appointed  in 
his  Church;  and  to  the  lov^er  of  which,  the  office  of 
a  Priest,  these  hands,  that  now  have  trembled  in  his 
last  embrace,  admitted  him,  on  the  fifteenth  day  of 
the  last  March. ^ 

And  now,  I  surely  felt  that  all  my  wishes  had 
been  realized,  and  all  my  hopes  of  comfort  to  my- 
self, and  usefulness  to  the  Church,  were  in  the  way 
of  accomplishment.  He  had  done  all  things  well. 
He  was  in  all  respects  what  I  desired  to  see  him. 
He  had  derived  his  principles  from  the  pure  foun- 

the  personal  appeal  to  me  was  extremely  touching.  If  I  live  to  be  ordained  Priest, 
you  must  make  every  effort  to  be  present.  Yesterday,  I  preached  for  the  first 
time:  in  the  morning,  in  St.  Stephen's  Church,  Willingborough ;  and  in  the 
afternoon,  in  St.  Mary's.  This  was  also  a  very  trying  day  to  me  :  for  I  realize 
it  now  to  be  an  awful  thing  to  stand  up  and  minister  in  holy  things,  and  preach 
the  Gospel  to  frail  and  sinful  men.  I  trust  that  I  shall  be  enabled  to  do  right, 
and  to  speak  the  truth  in  love." 

'  Prayer  in  the  office  for  the  ordering  of  Deacons. 

-Again,  he  writes  to  his  Father,  Pa/m  Sunday,  1839 — "I  was  ordained 
Priest,  by  the  Bishop,  on  Friday,  15lh  March,  in  the  little  Church,  in  which  1 
was  married,  and  ordained  Deacon.  Thus,  my  de;ir  Father,  your  son  is  in  full 
orders.  Pray  for  me,  that  I  may  be  humble,  and  not  a  self-seeker,  nor  a  seeker 
for  the  praises  of  men;  and  that  I  may  be  the  instrument  of  leading  some  souls 
to  eternal  life!" 


XXXVIU 

tain  of  the  word  of  God.  He  had  confirmed  them 
all,  and  proved  them  true  and  real,  by  the  attestation 
of  that  chain  of  witnesses,  which  God  has  ever  kept, 
and  set,  in  an  nlibroken  series,  in  his  holy  Church. 
He  had  put  on — far,  far  beyond  his  years — the  shin- 
ing armour,  which  the  champions  of  the  truth,  age 
after  age,  have  laid  up  in  the  house  of  God,  for  its 
"  defence  and  confirmation."  He  was  imbued  with 
the  purest  spirit  of  the  best  days  of  Christianity;^ 
and  he  was  drinking  ever  more  and  more  from  that 
full  stream  which  flows  fast  by  the  oracle  of  God. 
His  vigorous  mind,  his  fertile  fancy,  his  judicious 
memory,  his  uncompromising  firmness,  his  stern 
devotion  to  the  truth, ^  his  comprehensive  and  pre- 
vailing charity,  all  were  daily  ripening ;  and  I  felt 
that  I  had  in  him  a  sympathising  friend,  a  prudent 
counsellor,  an  able  auxiliary,  to  work  with  me  while 
I  could  work,  to  carry  out  the  principles  and  plans 
for  which  alone  I  live,  and,  when  my  voice  is  sealed 

•  A  fellow-student  of  his,  at  the  General  Theological  Seminary,  the  Rev, 
Reuben  J.  Germain,  has  often  said  of  him,  that  "  he  embodied  more  of  the  spirit 
of  the  Church  than  any  man  he  ever  knew." 

2  The  Rev.  Alfred  Stubbs,  thus  speaks  of  him,  in  a  letter  recently  received: 
"Allow  me  to  express  my  sympathy  in  your  recent  and  severe  affliction.  Un- 
searchable, indeed,  are  God's  judgments.  I  had  the  happiness  of  your  nephew's 
acquaintance  and  friendship  at  the  Seminary ;  and  never  have  I  known  a  man 
who  seemed  so  truly  deserving  of  our  blessed  Lord's  commendation,  '  Behold 
an  Israelite,  indeed,  in  whom  there  is  no  guile.'  " 


XXXIX 

in  death,  to  bear  them  onward,  to  another  generation, 
and  then  to  add  his  dying  testimony  to  my  own.  , 
Shall  I  repress  it — I  rejoiced  in  all  he  had,  and  all 
he  was,  as  something  of  my  own?  Need  I  deny  it — 
I  felt  in  all  he  had,  and  all  he  was,  a  father's  (yet,  I 
trust,  a  Christian  father's)  pride?  Often  taken  from 
the  seat  and  centre  of  my  heart's  affections,  by  of- 
ficial duty,  I  felt  that  all  I  loved  were  sure  to  have 
in  him  a  faithful  and  judicious  friend.  OccupieiJ 
with  countless  duties  and  concerns,  which  interfere 
with  the  entire  performance  of  the  pastoral  office,  I 
felt,  that  in  him,  I  had  for  every  sheep  and  every 
lamb  of  all  my  fl.ock,  a  shepherd,^  that  would  "call 
them  all  by  name,"  and  lead  them  out,  and  serve 
them,  "faithful  unto  death."  Whatever  he  saw,  I 
saw  as  with  my  own  eyes.     Whatever  he  did,  was 

'  He  had,  if  I  may  so  speak,  a  passion  for  the  pastoral  life,  A  Parsonage  was 
the  Arcadia  of  his  poetic  dreams  :  and  this,  a  rural  and  a  humble  one.  Thus 
he  writes  to  one  of  his  sisters,  "  A'ew  York,  midnight,  JVovember  4,  1835. — I 

trust,  dear ,  you  will  keep  firm  to  the  Church;  and  also  will  keep  your 

good  little  sister ,  in  the  right  way.     Your  love  for  the  Church  gives  me 

the  greatest  satisfaction ;  and  I  still  look  forward  to  our  Parsonage  under  the 
hill:  whence  you  and  I  will  sally  forth,  to  visit  the  poor;  you  in  your  russetgown, 
and  I  in  my  black  cloak."  And  again,  writing  to  the  same,  of  an  absent  sister. 
"JVew  York,  about  midnight,  December^,  1835.  She  sent  me  a  sweet  little 
book.  How  kind  she  is  to  think  of  these  little  matters,  when  she  is  so  far  away! 
And  we  are  all  away  from  home  now  !  And  where  is  our  home  1  I  feel  as  if 
I  had  none  on  earth  ;  but  I  hope  I  shall  have,  one  of  these  days.  And  you  will 
all  come  and  stay  at  the  Parsonage — seven  brown  loaves  a-piece,  with  a  calico 
gown!     Fine  living,  that !" 


xl 

done  as  with  my  own  hands.  Whatever  he  under- 
took to  do,  was  done  of  course;  done  with  the  spirit, 
and  to  the  letter.  He  was  myself,  more  than  my 
substitute;  and  his  generous  heart  beat  to  my  in- 
terests more  promptly  and  more  true  than  to  his 
own.  He  miffht  have  had  a  hiorher  station  in  the 
Church  :  but  it  was  his  choice  to  be  with  me.  Well 
do  I  remember,  how  he  lingered  in  his  spirit,  at  the 
threshold  of  the  priesthood,  as  feeling  that  the  lowest 
office  in  God's  house  were  best  for  him.  Well  and 
truly  do  I  know,  that,  with  all  his  faculties,  and  all 
his  gifts,  it  would  have  been  his  choice  to  labour 
here  with  me,  under  my  auspices,  and  for  your  edi- 
fication and  salvation.  And  often,  and  with  heart- 
felt satisfaction  and  delight,  have  I  contemplated  the 
precious  fruits,  for  personal  comfort,  for  pastoral 
profit,  for  eternal  joy,  which  should  be  ripened  and 
matured  in  this  life-long  association. 

But  it  was  not  to  be  so.  He  who  lent  us  such  a 
treasure,  saw  some  use  for  him  in  Heaven.  Did  He 
not  see,  dear  brethren,  that  by  us  he  was  not  duly 
valued?  In  the  midst  of  his  usefulness,  in  the  bright 
promise  of  his  aspiring  youth,  when  his  nest  was  but 
just  made,  and  warm  with  all  the  tender  charities  of 
life,^  the  sure  decree  came  forth;  and  the  inexorable 


'  He  was  most  happily  married,  November  8th,  1838,  to  Miss  Augusta  Cath- 
arine Barnes.     He  left  an  infant  of  a  month,  a  little  boy. 


xli 

hand  of  death  was  laid  on  our  beloved.  Almost  from 
the  first,  he  was  prophetic  of  its  import.  Indeed,  it 
was  a  common  thought  with  him,  that  length  of  days 
were  not  in  store  for  him.  Still,  he  continued  to  toil 
on  beyond  his  strength.  Still,  he  resorted  to  the 
aids  and  applicatiofts  of  the  healing  art.  Still,  he 
exerted  every  effort,  and  had  recourse  to  every  expe- 
dient, that  the  most  skilful,  most  faithful,  and  most 
affectionate  physician  that  man  was  ever  blessed 
with,  aided  by  the  best  science  of  our  neighboring 
city,  could  devise,  to  avert  the  evil;  which,  though 
not  dark  to  him,^  must  bring,  he  knew,  such  dark- 


'  The  Rev.  Henry  Burroughs,  who  was  with  him,  both  at  the  University  and 
at  the  Seminary,  and  saw  him  towards  the  close  of  his  last  illness,  thus  writes  ; 

"  Right  Reverend  and  Dear  Sir, 

Allow  me  to  express  my  sympathy  with  you,  and  with  all  who  mourn 
our  dear  Winslow.  The  Church  has  truly  lost  an  ornament  and  a  strong  sup- 
porter. It  was  for  the  sake  of  the  Church  that  he  wished,  (if  God  were  wil- 
ling,) to  live  ;  and  most  nobly  and  strongly  would  he  have  continued  to  ad- 
vocate her  principles.  But  God  has  willed  otherwise  ;  and  perhaps,  '  he,  being 
dead,'  and  yet  speaking,  may  serve  the  cause  of  the  Gospel  as  truly  as  when 
he  lived.  The  notice  in  the  '  Banner  of  the  Cross,' is  to  me  most  interesting, 
and  highly  gratifying ;  and  I  hope,  that  the  same  hand  (which  I  doubt  not  is 
your  own,)  will,  ere  long,  give  to  the  world  a  full  account  of  his  life  and  char- 
acter. Such  a  biography,  showing  the  influence  of  the  institutions  of  the 
Church  upon  the  heart  and  life,  would  prove  more  conclusively  than  all  the  ar- 
guments of  reason,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  acts  upon  us  by  and  in  those  institu- 
tions. It  would  answer  those  who  charge  ua  with  losing  the  substance  of  re- 
ligion in  our  attachment  to  forms.  It  would  prove  that  the  surest  way  to  be- 
come holy  and  perfect,  is  to  be  a  consistent  Churchman.     I  mourn  for  Wins- 


'l^ 


xlii 

ness  on  his  pleasant  home,  and  take  him  from  the 
altars  which  it  was  his  heart's  desire  to  serve. 
Slowly,  but  certainly,  the  insidious  malady^  crept  on. 
Slowly,  but  certainly,  its  secret  poison  mixed  itself 
up  with  all  the  streams  of  life.  Slowly,  but  cer- 
tainly, did  the  vigour  of  a  sound  constitution,  and 
the  accumulated  strength  of  a  youth  of  virtuous  mo- 
deration, yield  to  its  advances.  Like  the  shadow  on 
the  dial,  the  death-cloud  slowly  passed  before  him ; 
and  he  saw  its  progress,  and  he  felt  that  soon  the 
hour-mark  of  his  dissolution  must  be  reached.  Did 
he  shrink?  Did  he  murmur?  Did  he  repine?  Bear 
witness,  you,  who,  with  the  assiduity  of  brothers, 
have  watched,  night  after  night,  beside  his  restless 
couch.  Bear  witness,  he,  who,  with  a  father's  ten- 
derness, not  less  than  a  physician's  skill,  waited  on 


low  ;  but  I  devoutly  thank  God,  that  He  has  allowed  me  to  see  in  him  a  pattern 
of  what  I  ought  to  be.  His  conversation  always  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
me.  The  firmness  of  his  principles,  the  clearness  of  his  views,  the  dignity  of 
his  manner,  and  the  strain  of  piety  that  pervaded  his  conversation,  all  com- 
bined to  render  whatever  he  said  impressive.  I  shall  always  remember  our 
last  conversation  together.  Seldom  has  there  been  one  so  well  prepared  to  die, 
as  he  then  appeared  to  be,  I  knew  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  one  soon  to 
leave  the  world,  yet  it  brought  no  sad  and  gloomy  feelings.  For  the  cheerful, 
the  heavenly  tone  of  his  conversation,  and  his  solemn  and  delightful  views  of 
death,  and  his  expressions  of  '  trembling  hope,'  made  me  feel  as  if  I  was  in 
the  presence  of  one  to  whom  death  would  be  no  calamity.  Our  grief  is  only 
that  we  have  lost  him." 

'  His  disease  was  cancerous. 


xliii 

all  his  sickness.  Bear  witness,  they,  who,  with  the 
undying-  love  which  burns  in  w^oman's  breast,  have 
ministered  to  his  necessities,  wiped  his  cold  brow, 
moistened  his  fevered  lips,  and,  when  life's  agony 
was  past,  arrayed  him  for  the  grave.  He  never 
repined.  He  never  murmured.  He  never  shrunk. 
He  knew  in  whom  he  had  believed;  and  he  knew 
that,  at  His  Cross,  death  was  divested  of  his  sting. 
It  was  my  painful  office,  w  hen  I  returned  from  my 
last  Visitation,  to  tell  him  all  the  truth.  He  received 
it  with  undisturbed  serenity.  He  had  thought  that 
it  was  so,  but  till  then  he  was  not  sure.  He  had  no 
regret,  but  for  the  imperfection  of  his  services,  and 
the  sinfulness  of  his  short  life.  He  had  no  wish,  but 
that  God  would  prepare  him  for  the  hour.  He  would 
say,  if  he  were  but  sure  of  that,  "Even  so,  Lord 
Jesus,  come  quickly!"  This  was  much  for  a  young 
man  to  say,  wnth  his  foot  upon  the  upward  path,  that 
leads  to  life's  most  elevated  and  enchanting  prospects. 
This  was  much  for  a  young  man  to  say,  in  the  midst 
of  an  admiring  circle,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  the 
fondest  love  of  father,  sisters,^   friends.     This  was 

'Nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  his  correspondence  with  his  three 
sisters.  To  one  of  them  he  writes,  "JVew  York,  Jipril  18th,  1836. — I  am  de- 
lighted to  hear  that  you  have  been  reading  sermons  by  some  of  the  distinguished 
divines  of  the  good  old  Church  of  England.  You  could  not  do  any  thing  bet- 
ter. I  rejoice,  too,  in  your  growth  in  grace,  and  in  your  firm  attachment  to  the 
Church.     There  alone,  my  dear  sister,  can  we  find  a  refuge  from  the  indiffer- 


xliv 

much  for  a  young-  man  to  say,  with  the  dearest  object 
of  his  earthly  love  beside  him,  not  yet  one  year  a 

ence  and  scepticism  of  Unitarianism,  and  the  fanaticism  and  follies  of  Calvin- 
ism. Continue  to  love  and  revere  her  time-hallowed  institutions,  walk  in  her 
ways,  breathe  her  prayers,  and  keep  her  precepts,  which  are  all  based  on  the 
Gospel;  and  she  will  indeed  be  to  you  the  ark  of  Christ's  Church,  to  waft  you 

to  the  haven  of  eternal  rest.     Does take  an  interest  in  religious  matters'? 

Does  she  continue  true  to  the  Church"!  Write  to  her  upon  the  subject  some- 
times, and  tell  me  what  she  says.  I  should  do  it  myself;  but  I  know  that  a 
sistei'  keeps  the  key  of  a  sister^  s  heart  J" 

And  again,  '■'JVexv  York,  J\Iay  2,  1836  :  I  long  to  see .     What  a  joyous 

meeting  we  shall  have!     I  trust,  my  dear ,  that  we  shall  always  be  united, 

as  a  family,  in  the  bonds  of  the  closest  affection.  I  have  seen  brothers  and  sis- 
ters strangely  and  sadly  disunited.  Let  it  never  be  so  with  us  !  Let  the  lips 
taught  in  infancy,  by  the  same  mother,  to  lisp  words  of  love,  never  be  opened 
to  give  utterance  to  any  other :  so  that,  whether  present  or  absent,  in  life  or  in 
death,  we  may  be  one.  And  may  none  of  those  new  ties,  which  it  is  right  and 
proper  that  we  should  form,  estrange  us  from  the  early  attachments  which  were 
the  first  gushings  forth  of  young  hearts,  full  of  pure  and  warm  affection." 

And  again,  "Ge?iera/  Theological  Seminary,  JVew  York,  JMarch  16th,  1837: 
What  a  mild  winter  we  have  had !  And  now  spring  is  coming  on  most  glori- 
ously. It  is  a  delightful,  beautiful  day.  My  very  heart  is  singing  for  joy;  so 
many  bright  sun-beams  have  found  their  way  there.  Do  you  not  love  the 
spring,  dear  ]  And  remember,  that  probably  the  birds  and  green  leaves  and 
flowers  will  bring  us  all  together  again  !  And  this  thought  it  is  which  makes 
the  spring  so  very  pleasant  now.  I  am  in  most  glorious  health  ;  for  which  I 
hope  I  may  he  deeply  grateful  to  Him  in  whose  hands  are  sickness  and  health, 
all  our  times,  and  all  our  ways.  And  moreover  I  feel  perfectly  contented  with 
and  at  the  Seminary  now.  Not  that  I  like  it  so  very  much,  either.  But  I  think 
I  was  very  wrong  in  giving  way  to  discontent  last  year.  Wherever  he  is, 
with  whatever  he  has,  a  true  Christian  is  always  contented  :  because  he 
Knows  who  it  is  that  orders  all  things,  and  that  all  things  work  together  for  the 
good  of  those  who  love  God  supremely.      Wherever  he  is.  he  knows  that  he  has 


xlv 

bride.  This  was  much  for  a  young  man  to  say, 
with  an  infant  of  a  month  upon  his  arm;  and  to 
know  that  its  fulfilment  would  leave  that  infant  father- 

an  eternal  home,  and  a  changeless  friend,  and  so  he  must  be  happy.  I  think 
that  whenever  we  find  ourselves  discontented,  we  may  safely  conclude  that  our 
hearts  are  not  right  with  God  ;  that  we  have  not  that  'joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost,' 
and  that  'peace  in  believing'  on  the  only  Saviour,  which  all  sincere  disciples 
of  Christ  do  enjoy,  according  to  his  most  blessed  promise.  I  cannot  hut  con- 
clude, then,  that  my  great  discontent  with  the  Seminary,  last  year,  was  wrong ; 
and,  to  use  a  harsher  term,  sinful.  And  yet,  I  have  not  changed  in  the  least 
in  my  feelings  of  strong  affection  for  '  Old  Harvard,'  and  the  many  dear  friends 
who  became  my  friends  in  that  peaceful  and  happy  abode." 

And  again,  under  a  severe  domestic  trial,  ^'General  Theological  Seminary, 
JVeiv  York,  Jipril  4th,  1837.  This  is  a  day  which  cannot  fail  to  fill  us  all 
with  sad,  yet  salutary,  reminiscences.  It  is  the  atmiversary  of  our  dear  Mother's 
death.  She  is  at  rest  with  the  dead  blessed  in  the  Lord,  and  free  from  the  sore 
afflictions  which  God,  in  his  love,  has  brought  upon  us.     Let  us  all  try,  dear 

,  to  be  ready,  as  she  was  ready,  that  we  may  one  day  enter,  with  her, '  into 

the  joy  of  our  Lord.'  *  *  *  *  He  never  is  so  ready  to  take  care  of  us  as  when 
we  cast  all  our  care  upon  him.  You  know,  too,  that  our  blessed  Saviour  was 
once  '  tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we  are.'  He  was  afflicted,  and  spoken 
against,  and  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head.  In  heaven,  he  is  still  moved  with 
compassion  for  our  infirmities,  and  sorrows  ;  for  he  perfectly  knows  their  bitter- 
ness. And  bitter  they  are,  indeed.  Go  to  Him,  then.  Cairy  them  all  before 
Him.  And  pray  that  He  will  bless  this  afflictive  stroke  to  the  good  of  us  all, 
and  that  He  will  take  care  of  us  all.  We  are  often  told,  dear ,  that  afflic- 
tions are  sent  us  in  kindness  and  love,  to  bring  us  nearer  God.  So  we  must  be- 
lieve. We  must  thunk  our  heavenly  Father  that  he  has  not  given  us  up  to  the 
dangerous  temptations  of  prosperity.  We  must  try  to  say  from  the  heart — 
God's  grace  alone  can  enable  us — 'though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him.' 
Be  of  good  cheer.  All  this  will  come  out  right.  And  the  time  will  come,  when  we 
shall  praise  God  for  this  dark  event.  I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  not  succeed  in  giv- 
ing that  consolation  which  I  would  fain  impart.  I  doubt  not  that  you  have 
found  it  where  alone  it  can  be  had.     Only  go  there.     Do  not   rest  u{)on  any 


xlvi 

less,  and  that  wife  a  widow.  But  he  said  it ;  and  he 
said  it  with  the  calmness  and  serenity  of  an  old 
saint :  not  that  he  loved  them  less,  hut  that  he  loved 
Jesus  more. 

For  many  weeks,  he  had  been  setting  all  his 
house  in  order.  Not  an  interest,  however  small, 
that  could  be  affected  by  his  death,  that  he  had  not 
provided  for.  Still,  he  pursued  his  favorite  studies 
with  alacrity.  He  was  as  devoted  to  his  Greek  Tes- 
tament, and  to  his  Hebrew  Bible,  as  if  he  expected 
to  have  use  for  them,  yet  forty  years.  ^  For  seven 
weeks,  he  had  watchers  every  night;  and  uniformly 
did  they  declare  the  hours  so  spent  among  the  hap- 
piest of  their  life.  Among  them,  was  the  friend  of 
his  youth,  who  had  baptized  him,  and  admitted  him 
first  to  the  Holy  Communion,  the  Rev.  IVTr.  Cros- 
well,^  who  came  from  Boston,  especially  to  see  him. 

earthly  hopes.  God  requires  our  supreme  affection.  If  it  were  not  thus  some- 
times roughly  removed  from  the  things  of  earth,  it  would  cling  to  them  until  it 
partook  of  earthly  corruption,  and  perished." 

As  before,  so  in  this  instance,  his  faith  was  prophetic.  According  to  his 
comfortable  assurance  to  his  sister,  so  it  was.  The  beloved  one,  for  whom  their 
hearts  were  wrung,  was  delivered  from  all  his  enemies.  He  made  his  "  right- 
eousness as  clear  as  the  light,"  and  his  "just  dealing  as  the  noon-day." 

'  To  his  friend  Ogilby,  he  said,  "Why  not  improve  the  mind?  It  is  im- 
mortal." 

2  The  following  is  an  extract  of  a  recent  letter  from  this  dear  friend,  who 
knew  him  as  few  knew  him,  and  loved  him  as  they  did  who  know  him,  best: 

"  My  dear  Bishop,  and  Brother, 

I   have  delayed  writing  until   I   could    hear  all.     I  have  read  your 


xlvii 

"It  was  a  memorable  night,"    he   writes,  "that  I 
spent  with  him,  on  the  14th  of  October.     God  for- 

several  touching  letters  to  myself  and  others,  many  times  over.     I  have  also 
communicated  with   the  living  witnesses  of  Winslow's  death.     I  have  wept 
alone,  in  my  chamber,   and  with  those  that  wept;  and  'weep  the  more,  be- 
cause we  weep  in  vain.'     I  know  not  how  to  express  to  you  my  sense  of  this 
common   and  irreparable  loss.     But  I  bless  God's  holy  name,  for  this  signal 
instance  of  another  triumph  of  faith  ;  for  an  example   so   harmonious,  con- 
sistent, and  symmetrical,  so  instinct  with  the  very  beauty  of  holiness,  up  to  that 
crowning  hour,  which  sealed  his  admission  among  the  number  of  those  who 
'  came  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  have  washed  their  robes   and  made  them 
white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.'     How  blessed  to  witness  such  a  death  !  How 
blessed  to  die  amid  such  ministers  of  consolation,  and  under  the  eye  of  so  af- 
fectionate   and    faithful    'a  chronicler    as  Griffith!'     Your   obituary   in  the 
'  Banner  of    the  Cross,'  filled    my  eyes  and  heart.      Prescott  is    here,   and 
knows  as  well  as  I,  how  true  it  is  to  the  letter.     I  would  we  could  have  been 
of  that  weeping  congregation,  who  made  an  '  Abel  Mizraim  '  of  the  Church,  on 
Sunday  afternoon.     Where  is  another  youth  of  five-and-twenty  of  whom  so 
much  could  be  said  without  exaggeration?     Where  shall  we  find  the  same  do- 
cile spirit,  so  subdued  to  every  requirement  of  ecclesiastical  discipline,  so  rich 
and  ripe  in  every  attainment,  not  only  of  theological  learning,  but  of  the  divinest 
graces'?     Where  another  model,  in  which  so  much  was  embodied  of  the  best 
and  golden  ages  of  the  Church  !  Alas!  we  look  in  vain. 
'  Chosen  spirit  was  this  of  the  finest  elements  tempered 
And  embodied  on  earth  in  mortality's  purest  texture ; 
But  in  the  morning  of  hope,  in  the  blossom  of  virtue  and  genius, 
He  was  cut  down  by  death.     What  then  1     Were  it  wise  to  lament  him, 
Seeing  the  mind  bears  with  it  its  wealth,  and  the  soul,  its  aflections? 
What  we  sow,  we  shall  reap  ;  and  the  seeds  whereof  earth  was  not  worthy 
Strike  their  roots  in  a  kindlier  soil,  and  ripen  to  harvest.' 
"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  propose  to  undertake  his  memoir.     It  will  be  a 
precious  legacy  to  the  Chur:h  ;  and  for  her  sake  and  his  own,  it  should  be 
known,  and  engraven  as  with   lead  upon  the  rock  forever,  that  the   peculiar 


xlviii 

bid  that  I  ever  should  forget  it.  In  the  dead  of 
night,  while  his  lamp  burned  dim,  he  had  songs 
upon  his  bed;  and  recited  those  beautiful  stanzas, 
suggested  to  sooth  his  restlessness,  by  the  Oriental 
sentiment,  'This  also  shall  pass  away.'^  I  took 
them  down  at  his  mouth,  and  shall  cherish  them 
always  as  his  cycnean^  strain  : 

'  Death  darkens  his  eye,  and  unplumes  his  wings, 
'  And  his  sweetest  song  is  the  last  he  sings.'  " 

It  proved  so.  The  poetic  talent,  which  before  his 
ordination  he  had  exercised  to  the  delight  and  ad- 
miration of  the  Church,  he  sacredly  repressed,  upon 
his  entrance  to  the  holy  office.  But  in  his  latest 
days,  the  fire  that  he  had  kept  from  fiaming,  burned 

principles  and  precious  convictions  which  he  so  fondly  cherished  in  health, 
were  his  support  and  comfort  in  sickness,  and  shed  a  blessed  light  in  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death.  I  have  often  looked  over  his  poetical  remains,  s 
carefully  preserved  by  his  devoted  aunts,  who  so  wonderfully  bear  up  under 
this  distressing  bereavement.  Some  of  them  are  of  singular  beauty,  and  one, 
to  the  memory  of  his  classmate,  Hoffman,  mutatis  mutandis,  is  but  an  epitaph 
upon  himself.'' 

■  An  Eastern  sage,  being  requested  by  his  sovereign,  to  furnish  a  motto  for  a 
signet  ring,  which  would  be  suitable  alike  for  prosperity  and  adversity,  wrote 
these  words — "  this  also  shall  pass  awat." 

2  Cotton,  writing  to  his  friend  Izaak  Walton,  of  holy  George  Herbert,  has  the 
same  sentiment ; 

"Where,  with  a  soul  composed  of  harmonies. 

Like  a  sweet  swan,  he  warbles,  as  he  dies. 

His  Maker's  praise,  and  his  own  obsequies." 
It  was  well  and  truly  said  of  Winslow,  by  one  who  knew  him  well,  "  Thy  life 
has  been  one  well-tuned  psalm?" 


xlix 

within  him,  and  burst  forth,  in  these  delightful  lines 
— the  very  transcript  of  his  faithful,  peaceful,  hopeful 
spirit. 

When  morning  sunbeams  round  me  shed 

Their  light  and  influence  blest ; 
When  flowery  paths  before  me  spread, 

And  life  in  smiles  is  drest: 
In  darkling  lines,  that  dim  each  ray, 
I  read,  "  this  too  shall  pass  away." 

When  murky  clouds  o'erhang  the  sky 

Far  down  the  veil  of  years, 
And  vainly  looks  the  tearful  eye, 

Where  not  a  hope  appears  : 
Lo  !  characters  of  glory  play, 
'Mid  shades — "this  too  shall  pass  away." 

Blest  words,  that  temper  pleasure's  beam, 

And  lighten  sorrow's  gloom  ; 
That  early  sadden  youth's  bright  dream, 

And  cheer  the  old  man's  tomb  ; 
Unto  that  world  be  ye  my  stay — 
The  world  which  shall  not  pass  away. 

I  was  much  with  him,  from  the  early  part  of  this 
month,  when  I  returned  home,  until  his  latest  breath. 
He  was  always  the  same.  He  deeply  felt,  and  feel- 
ingly bewailed,  the  sinfulness  both  of  his  nature,  and 
of  his  practice ;  and  he  clung  to  the  bleeding  Cross, 
as  his  only  and  sufficient  rescue.  "As  I  now  look 
back  on  my  short  life,"  he  would  say,  "all  seems  to 
be  sinful."  He  was  of  the  tenderest  conscience  that 
I  ever  knew.  Often  he  said,  that  he  was  almost 
afraid  that  the  composure  of  his  confidence  would 


1 

fail  him  at  the  last;  but  this,  he  said,  he  knew,  was 
a  temptation;  and  that  He  in  whom  he  trusted  would 
give  him  strength  according  to  his  day.  ^  He  attained 
to  no  raptures.  He  spoke  of  no  triumph  of  his  own. 
He  professed  no  positive  assurance  of  acceptance,  as 
personally  and  specifically  sealed  to  him,  other  than 
in  the  sacraments  and  offices  of  the  Church.     He 


•  These,  by  Mr.  Newman,  from  the  "Lyra  Apostolica,"  were  favourite  Unes 
with  him.  They  were  the  last  which  he  recited;  and  they  well  express  the 
habitual  repose  of  his  last  illness. 

'*  Unto  the  godly  there  ariseth  up  light  in  the  darkness." 

Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom, 

Lead  thou  me  on ! 
The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home — 

Lead  thou  nie  on ! 
Keep  thou  my  feet ;  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene, — one  step  enough  for  me. 

I  was  not  ever  thus,  nor  prayed  that  Thou 

Shouldst  lead  me  on. 
I  loved  to  choose  and  see  my  path :  but  now, 

Lead  Thou  me  on  ! 
I  loved  the  garish  day,  and  spite  of  fears, 
Pride  ruled  my  will:  remember  not  past  years  ! 
So  long  thy  power  hath  blest  me,  sure  it  still 

Will  lead  me  on, 

V 

O'er  moor  and  fen,  o'er  crag  and  torrent,  till 

The  night  is  gone  ; 
And  with  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile 
Which  I  have  loved  long  since,  and  lost  awhile. 

The  prospect  of  meeting  with  his  mother,  was  among  the  anticipations  on 
which  he  loved  to  dwell. 


li 

had  "not  so  learned  Christ."  He  saw  no  warrant 
for  such  an  expectation  in  the  Holy  Scripture.  It 
was  enough  for  him  to  know,  that  the  Son  of  God 
had  "tasted  death  for  every  man;"  and  that  "he 
that  belie veth  in  him  shall  not  perish,  but  have  ever- 
lasting life."  He  saw  too  little  that  was  not  sin  in 
the  whole  course  of  his  past  life,  to  attach  any  im- 
portance to  the  whisperings  of  a  deceitful  heart ;  or 
to  look  to  himself,  or  any  thing  of  or  in  himself,  for 
comfort  or  reliance.  He  was  content  to  lie  down 
humbly,  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross;  and  to  look  up,  as 
'a  weaned  child,  to  Him  who  died  for  sinners,  and 
who  speaketh  peace  and  pardon  to  every  contrite 
heart.  "  Oh,  how  I  have  felt,"  said  he,  a  very  short 
time  before  his  death,  "during  these  last  few  days, 
the  vanity  of  a  death-bed  repentance.  In  my  pre- 
sent agony  of  body  and.  distress  of  mind,  I  cannot 
seek  God,  but  can  only  rest  on  him.^^  Beautiful  dis- 
tinction !  Blessed  to  him,  who  sought  Him  early,  and 
had  sought  Him  always,  and  had  Him  not  now  to 
seek !  Awful  to  them,  who  have  put  off  their  search 
of  Him,  till  anguish  of  body  and  confusion  of  mind 
discourage  even  the  attempt!  On  the  second  day 
before  his  death,  as  I  entered  the  room,  he  said,  "  my 
flesh  and  my  heart  fail  me."  I  added,  "but  God  is 
the  strength  of  my  heart,  and  my  portion  forever." 
He  replied,  "I  trust  so."     He  whispered  to  me  his 


Hi 

strong  desire  to  receive  "the  blessed  Communion/' 
as  he  called  it;  and  proposed  the  afternoon.  But 
when  the  time  came,  he  was  unable,  from  the  pecu- 
liar nature  of  his  disease.  He  then  expressed  his 
gratitude,  that  he  had  received  it  within  a  month. 
On  the  day  before  he  died,  he  was  so  much  revived 
that  he  could  hear  me  read  a  little,  and  joined  with 
me  most  fervently  in  the  Lord's  Prayer ;  adding  to 
the  other  portions  of  the  Visitation  Service,  which  I 
read,  his  loud  "  Amen."  After  this,  he  sunk  again, 
till  the  night  before  his  death. 

It  was  my  privilege — and  so  I  shall  esteem  it' 
whilst  I  live — to  spend  the  last  hours  of  his  life  with 
him;  watching  by  his  bed-side,  with  her,  to  whom, 
with  so  many  other  blessings,  I  am  in  debt  for  this, 
that  she  brought  us  first  together.^  For  three  days 
and  three  nights,  he  had  retained  no  sustenance,  and 
never  for  one  moment  lost  himself  in  sleep;  being 
worn  and  harassed  through  that  whole  period  with 
the  most  distressing  symptoms  of  dissolution.  But, 
as  to  the  blessed  Lord,  so  to  his  suffering  servant, 
in  his  last  agony,  angels  seemed  to  minister.  While 
we  stood  by  him^  his  painful  symptoms  gradually 
subsided,  and  he  fell  asleep.  The  brief  oblivion 
of  ten  minutes  refreshed  him  for  the  victory.     He 

'  His  mother  was  an  elder  sister  of  Mrs.  Doane. 


*• 


liii 

awoke,  comparatively  bright  and  fresh;  and  ex- 
pressed the  possibility,  though  not  the  desire,  of  see- 
ing another  day.  Soon,  however,  he  began  to  sink, 
and  spoke  of  an  entire  prostration  of  his  strength. 
We  saw  that  his  time  had  come,  and  called  for  those 
whom  he  had  desired  to  be  with  him,  at  the  last. 
While  this  w^as  done,  as  he  lay  serene  and  still,  he 
calmly  raised  his  right  hand,  then  as  cold  as  monu- 
mental marble,  and  traced  on  his  brow,  as  cold,  the 
sign  of  the  blessed  Cross.  I  understood  the  omen. 
He  was  retracing  his  baptismal  sign.  He  was  re- 
newing his  baptismal  dedication.  He  was  profess- 
ing the  Crucified,  once  more  before  the  world.  He 
was  sealing  himself  for  the  sepulchre.  He  said  no 
word ;  but  all  his  countenance  w^as  peaceful,  as  if  no 
trace  of  sickness  or  of  death  were  on  him.  Immedi- 
ately, I  pronounced  over  him  the  Commendatory  Ben- 
ediction, ''Unto  God's  gracious  mercy  and  protection 
we  commit  thee.  The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep 
thee.  The  Lord  make  his  face  to  shine  upon  thee, 
and  be  gracious  unto  thee.  The  Lord  lift  up  his 
countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace."  He 
said  distinctly,  "Amen."  I  added,  "Behold  the 
Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  w^orld." 
He  turned  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  pointed  to  him, 
throned  upon  the  clouds  of  glory.  This  was  his 
latest  gesture.     Shortly  after,  when  I  said  to  him,  in 


^ 


liv 

the  words  of  the  Visitation  service,  "The  Almighty 
Lord,  who  is  a  most  strong  tower  to  all  those  who 
put  their  trust  in  him,  be  now  and  evermore  thy 
defence,"  &c. — supposing  that  1  designed  by  this  to 
quiet  any  apprehensions  of  the  struggle,  he  simply 
said,  "I  am  calm ;  I  have  hope  in  Christ;  but  I  am 
very  weak."  After  this,  he  gradually  sunk  away; 
and  at  ten  minutes  before  five,  on  Thursday  morn- 
ing, November  21,  breathed  his  life  out,  as  an  infant 
falls  asleep,  upon  his  mother's  bosom — so  quietly 
that  none  of  us  could  tell  which  was  his  latest 
breath.  As  I  left  that  chamber  of  decay,  and  went 
out  into  the  clear  morning  air — the  wild  November 
wind  howling  across  my  path,  and  whirling  the  dry 
leaves;  the  ground  spread  with  its  thinnest,  scan- 
tiest, coldest  covering  of  snow;  the  full  moon,  shining 
in  all  the  glory  of  its  first  creation,  and  beaming  back 
again  from  the  clear  bosom  of  our  beautiful  river — I 
felt  how  perfect  the  reflection  was  of  the  transition 
which  had  taken  place  within.  I  felt  how  cold,  and 
bleak,  and  cheerless,  nature  is;  while  grace  and 
Heaven  are  clear,  and  bright,  and  beautiful.  I  re- 
membered, that  while  "all  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the 
glory  thereof  as  the  flower  of  grass;"  "the  word  of 
our  God,"  and  "he  that  doeth  the  will  of  God," 
"abideth  forever." 

Thus  died,  as  he  had  lived,  "having  the  testimony 


Iv 

of  a  good  conscience,  in  the  communion  of  the  Catho- 
lic Church,  in  the  confidence  of  a  certain  faith,  in 
the  comfort  of  a  reasonable,  religious,  and  holy  hope, 
in  favour  with  God,"  as  we  may  well  believe,  "and 
in  perfect  charity  with  the  world,"  a  young  man  of 
the  brightest  promise  I  have  ever  known.  Nor  only 
that ;  for  that,  if  it  were  all,  were  very  little.  But  of 
all  that  I  have  ever  known,  there  has  not  been  a 
holier  and  more  charitable  man,  a  more  consistent 
Christian,  a  more  intelligent,  devoted  and  uncom- 
promising Churchman,  a  more  faithful,  conscientious 
and  self-sacrificing  preacher  of  the  Cross.  Though 
young  in  years,  he  was  advanced  in  wisdom,  and  in 
knowledge,  and  in  every  Christian  grace.  He  was 
uniform  and  consistent  in  all  things ;  because  he  went 
by  the  principles  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  He  was  a 
Churchman  of  the  best  days  of  the  Church .  ^  He  lived 
in  the  communion  of  Hooker,  and  Ken,  and  Andrews,^ 
and  Jebb,  and  Rose ;  and  he  is  now  enjoying  their 
society,  and  singing,  as  Izaak  Walton  said  of  Herbert, 
hymns  and  anthems,  with  the  angels,  and  him,  and 


'  In  the  last  letter  which  he  dictated,  he  says  to  one  of  his  very  dearest  friends, 
"I  can  assure  you  that  paiu  and  sickness  have  not  shaken  my  attachment  to 
Catholic  principles.  I  have  found  our  holy  Mother  a  true  comforter  under  my 
trials:  and  can  tjuly  say,  with  Herbert,  '  there  are  no  prayers  like  hers.'  " 

*The  last  book  for  which  he  sent  to  my  Library,  in  the  very  last  week  of 
his  life,  was  Bishop  Andrews'  Private  Devotions  ;  and,  but  two  days  before  his 
death,  he  spoke  of  it  with  great  delight. 


Ivi 

Mr.  Ferrar,  in  heaven.  He  had  framed  himself, 
through  grace,  into  a  habit  of  ancient  holiness.  And 
he  had  attained  this,  with  divine  aid,  by  the  contem- 
plation and  adoption  of  the  primitive  devotion,  and 
discipline.  He  fasted  carefully  at  the  seasons  which 
the  Church  hath  recommended  to  her  members  : 
never  wearing  a  sad  countenance  meanwhile,  nor 
condemning  any  who  had  "  not  so  learned  Christ." 
He  studied  the  Holy  Scriptures  with  daily  and  in- 
creasing delight.  The  Psalter,  he  had  so  arranged, 
that  it  was  read  through  once  in  every  week.  And  he 
had,  for  his  own  use,  an  order  of  devotion  for  the 
seven  canonical  hours,  in  each  day,  according  to  the 
ancient  practice.  Yet  of  all  this,  no  one  knew  but 
his  own  household  friends,  and  they  by  their  own 
observation.  He  longed  for  the  revival  of  the  daily 
service,  and  weekly  communion ;  and  sometimes  said, 
he  hoped  to  live  to  see  it.^  He  rejoiced  at  what  seemed 
to  him,  as  to  most  thoughtful  Churchmen,  a  revival 
of  the  elder  spirit  of  holiness  and  piety,  in  the  Church 
of  England,  and  its  extension  among  us.  In  one 
word,  he  was  a  true  Catholic^  Churchman,  in  his 

LIFE,  AND  IN  HIS  DEATH. 

'  He  did  live  to  see  the  daily  service  established  at  St.  Mary's  Hall ;  and  to 
hear  in  his  sick  room  the  daily  chants. 

-  This  expression  is  not  used  without  a  clear  and  full  perception  of  the  com- 
mon perversion  of  it.  Indeed,  it  is  here  expressly  used  to  meet  and  counteract 
this  most  unwarrantable  abuse.     Mr,  Winslow   was  a  ('atholic  Churchman,  in 


Ivii 

I  cannot  now  conclude  the  subject,  as  I  at  first 
proposed,    by  tracing   the   beautiful   outline  of  his 


equal  contradistinction  to  the  Papist  and  the  Puritan.  He  had  acquainted 
himself  with  both.  It  was  the  catholic  system,  sar»i/i^  him,  in  Christ, y)'on» 
either  error,  in  which  he  lived  and  in  which  he  died  ;  and  of  whose  training,  he 
approved  himself,  through  grace,  so  beautiful  a  specimen.  Few  men  have  had 
experience  so  critical  of  the  dangerous  influence  of  Popery.  Never  has  there 
been  exhibited  a  clearer  demonstration,  than  in  his  case,  of  the  effectual  re- 
sistance OF  THE  CATHOLIC  SYSTEM  to  its  most  winning  blandishments.  A  piece 
of  private  history,  as  interesting  as  it  is  instructive,  will  perfectly  establish, 
while  it  well  illustrates,  this  statement. 

It  was  during  his  residence  at  the  University,  that  the  Romish  convent  at 
Charlestown  was  destroyed,  by  an  outrageous  act  of  lawless  violence.  Win- 
slow  was  a  young  man  of  an  enthusiastic,  not  only,  but  highly  excitable,  tem- 
perament. He  felt  most  strongly  the  indignation,  which  that  deed  enkindled  in 
every  generous  breast.  What  he  felt  deeply,  he  was  wont  to  express  warmly. 
In  some  such  way,  his  feelings  were  enlisted  on  the  side  of  Rome.  A  young 
man  of  "  mark  and  likelihood,"  his  case  attracted  the  notice  of  the  clergy  of 
that  communion,  in  Boston.  One  thing  led  to  another,  until  he  found  himself 
admitted  to,  what  seemed,  their  fullest  confidence.  Books  were  put  into  his 
hands.  The  enticing  arts,  which  none  know  better  how  to  use,  were  sedulously 
applied.  His  very  position,  as  a  leader  among  the  young  Churchmen  of  the 
University,  when  neither  his  years  nor  his  acquirements  had  enabled  him  to 
know,  much  less  to  give,  a  reason  of  the  hope  that  was  in  him,  increased  his 
exposure.  With  just  enough  acquaintance  with  the  Church  to  feel  a  reverence 
for  antiquity,  and  a  disposition  to  be  governed  by  authority;  he  had  made  but 
little  progress  in  that  search  of  Holy  Scripture,  and  of  ancient  authors,  by  which 
alone  the  Christian  can  be  guarded  against  the  countless  forms  of  error — more 
dangerous,  in  proportion  as  they  seem  the  more  to  assimilate  themselves  to 
truth.  The  result  of  such  a  state  of  things  was  natural  and  obvious.  A  young 
man  of  less  than  twenty,  his  spirit  all  alive  to  classical  and  chivalrous  associa- 
tions, thrown  off  his  guard  by  the  stirring  up  of  all  his  deepest  impulses,  think- 
H 


Iviii 

character,  by  whose  new  grave  I  stand ;  and  pointing 
out  the  source  from  which  its  graces  all  proceeded, 

ing  himself  to  be  somewhat,  as  a  Churchman,  in  close  and  constant  conference 

with  a  Romish  Bishop  and  his  Priests  !    Who  could  hesitate  as  to  the  issue  ?    Of 

all  this,  I  was  in  perfect  ignorance;  when  I  received  from  him  the  following 

letter  : 

"Harvard  University,  Feb'y,  23,  1835. 
My  dear  Uncle, 

The  contents  of  the  following  letter,  will  undoubtedly  give  you  both 
surprise  and  pain  ;  but  duty  to  myself,  to  you  and  to  God,  compel  me  to  make 
this  disclosure.  The  only  thing  for  which  I  lament  is,  that  I  did  not  write  you 
my  doubts  and  difficulties  six  weeks  ago;  and  then  I  might  have  been  rescued 
from  what  you  will  consider  a  great  error.  To  be  brief,  /  am  all  but  converted 
to  the  faith  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church;  and  unless  I  am  to  be  reclaimed,  I 
must  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  openly  join  her  communion.  My  affections, 
my  sympathies,  are  all  with  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church ;  but  my  judgment 
is  almost  convinced  that  she  is  in  a  state  of  schism.  But  you  will  naturally 
enough  enquire,  how  did  this  come  about?  Ever  since  the  destruction  of  the 
convent  at  Charlestown,  my  attention  has  been  directed  to  the  faith  of  the 
[Roman]  Catholic  Church.  I  have  perused  the  works  of  several  of  her  best 
champions;  and  have  had  long  conversations  with  Bishop  Fenwick,  of  Boston, 
and  another  Roman  Catholic  Clergyman.  Not  that  I  would  give  you  to  un- 
derstand that  my  investigations  have  been  of  an  ex  parte  nature;  I  have  also 
studied  the  ablest  Protestant  authors :  and  yet,  the  result  is,  that  I  am  nearly  if 
not  quite  convinced  that  the  Church  of  Rome  is  the  only  Church  of  Christ. 

It  is  not  my  design,  in  writing  these  lines,  to  enter  into  a  full  relation  of  the 
various  reasons  which  have  led  me  to  such  conclusions  ;  suffice  it  to  say,  that 
my  present  views  seem  to  my  mind  to  be  the  Church  theory  of  our  own  Church, 
carried  out  to  its  legitimate  result.  I  have  always  believed  that  Christ  is  not 
divided — that  there  should  be  but  one  fold,  as  there  is  one  Shepherd — that  our 
Lord  had  promised  to  be  with  his  visible  Church,  to  the  end  of  the  world — that 
His  Church  should  be  guided  into  all  truth,  and  be  the  pillar  and  ground  of  the 
truth,  because  he  was  to  be  with  it  all  days.  Now  these  are  truths,  as  I  hum- 
bly think,  which  are  so  firmly  founded  in  Scripture,  antiquity,  reason  and  com- 
mon sense,  that  they  cannot  be  overthrown.  But  if  these  views  be  true,  the 
Church  of  Rome,  as  it  appears  to  me,  is  the  only  true  Church.  Where  was 
our  Church,  before  the  (so  called)  Reformation?'    Did  she  not  separate  from  the 

'  See  this  question  ably  treated  in  Dr.  Hook's  Sermon,  "  Hear  the  Church." 

G.  W.  D. 


I IX 


and  the  means  by  which  they  were  attained.     I  have 
been  wonderfully  and  unexpectedly  supported :  but 


Catholic  Church  at  that  tiiuel  If  she  be  the  true  Church,  then  Christ  deserted 
his  Church,  and  was  false  to  his  promise  of  being  with  her  all  daysi  There 
certainly  cannot  be  two  true  Churches  so  at  variance  as  Rome  and  England, 
If  Rome  be  right,  England  must  be  wrong.  If  Rome  be  wrong,  then  our  views 
of  the  Church  must  be  erroneous.  Such  is  my  dilemma.  And  I  cannot  see  any 
better  alternative  than  that  of  returning  to  the  Mother  Church. 

No  dissenter  can  possibly  meet  my  objections.  Churchmen,  and  Cliurclimen 
alone,  can  understand  my  peculiar  difficulties.  I  would  therefore  beg  you,  my 
dear  uncle,  if  you  should  have  time,  to  recommend  any  work  which  will  meet 
my  case;  and  also  give  me  any  light,  by  which  I  may  conscientiously  remain  in  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  Church — a  Church  which  I  have  so  much  loved  and 
honoured.  Excuse  my  troubling  you  with  this  letter.  It  is  no  less  painful  to 
me  than  it  can  prove  to  you.     But  it  is  my  duty,  and  duty  must  be  done. 

Very  affectionately  yours, 

Benjamin  Davis  Winslow." 


In  a  moment,  I  saw  his  position.  I  saw  that  to  refer  him  to  books,  while  Jesuit 
expositors  had  his  confidence,  was  vain.  I  saw  that  he  was  not  accessible  to 
reason.  I  saw  that  to  remain  at  Cambridge,  was  to  rush,  and  that  at  once,  into 
the  gulph  that  yawned  for  him.  The  image  that  possessed  my  mind  at  once, 
and  haunted  it,  by  day  and  night,  for  weeks  and  months,  and  has  not  yet  lost  all 
its  vividness,  was  the  poor  bird,  charmed  by  the  rattle-snake,  and  shooting 
with  a  desperate  impulse  into  his  sanguinary  jaws.  I  resolved,  if  there  was  help 
in  God,  to  save  him  ;  and,  by  the  help  of  God,  I  did.  I  wrote  to  him  briefly,  but 
peremptorily,  to  come  at  once  to  me.  That  the  subject  was  of  the  utmost  mo- 
ment. That  no  correspondence  at  a  distance  could  meet  its  requirements. 
That  it  called  for  time  and  thought,  and  careful  study  of  authorities,  without 
the  bias  of  an  overruling  influence  on  either  side.  That  Burlington  was  a  calm, 
sequestered  place.  That  my  books  were  at  his  service.  That  he  should  investi- 
gate thesubject  thoroughly.  That  he  should  follow  implicitly,  wherever  that 
investigation,  guided  by  the  promised  Holy  One,  should  lead.  If  it  led  to 
Rome,  he  should  go.  If,  convinced  himself,  he  could  convince  me,  I  would  go 
with  him.     If  conviction  failed,  his  place  was  where  the  providenee  of  God  had 


Ix 

the  flesh  is  weak,  and  nature  will  assert  its  way. 
Nor  is  it  needful  now  to  do  so.    Who  does  not  read  it, 

set  him.  I  used  no  word  of  argument,  and  I  referred  to  no  authority  against 
the  Romish  claim :  for  I  felt  sure,  that  they  who  had  so  far  secured  him,  would 
have  access  to  my  letters.  I  told  him  to  go  at  once  to  the  President.  To  say 
that  I  had  need  for  him  ;  and  that  he  must  rely  on  my  character  that  the  occa- 
sion was  sufficient,  without  a  statement  of  the  reasons.  He  went  to  the  Presi- 
dent. At  first,  he  refused  permission.  Then  he  sent  for  him,  and  told  him,  that 
on  further  consideration, he  felt  assured  my  reasons  must  be  good;  and  granted 
leave  of  absence.  As  I  had  anticipated,  so  it  was.  My  letter  was  shown  to  his 
seducers.  Every  argument,  that  Romish  craft  could  suggest,  was  used,  to  pre- 
vent, or  to  delay,  his  coming.  One  of  them  was  going  on  soon,  and  would  ac- 
company him.  If  he  went,  he  must  take  letters  to  the  communion  in  Philadel- 
phia. At  least,  he  must  take  books.  But  it  was  all  in  vain.  The  principle  of 
loyalty  was  in  him  more  strongly  than  in  any  man  I  ever  knew;  and  knowing 
that  his  allegiance  was  to  me,  to  me  he  came. 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  day  of  his  arrival,  nor  the  peculiar  expression  with 
which  he  came  to  me.  I  saw  that  he  was  wrought  up  to  the  highest  pitch, 
and  that  the  first  thing  for  him  was  to  rest.  Day  after  day  he  sought  to  engage 
me  in  the  topic,  and  day  after  day  I  avoided  it.  At  last,  when  he  became  soli- 
citous to  hear  my  views,  I  told  him,  no ;  he  was  to  make  out  his  own  case. 
I  gave  him  then,  on  a  small  slip  of  paper — I  have  it  now — a  single  point'  in 
the  great  controversy  between  the  Truth  and  Rome;  and  told  him  to  go  into 
my  Library,  and  satisfy  himself :  when  that  was  mastered,  he  should  have  the 
next.  He  spent  five  weeks  with  me,  I  never  dictated  to  him  even  the  shadow 
of  an  opinion.     He  traced  the  truth  up  to  its  first  fountains.     He  looked  for 

'  It  was  this : — The  Papal  Suprkmacy  ; 

i.  Can  the  primary  of  Peter  in  authority  and  power  be  established? 
ii.  If  established,  can  it  be  shown  that  it  was  to  be  transmitted  1 
iii.  If  designed  to  be  transmitted,  can  it  be  proved  to  appertain  to  the  Dishop 
of  Rome? 

The  appeal  to  be,  1,  to  Scripture;  2,  to  ancient  authors. 


Ixi 

in  the  assemblage  here,  of  such  a  congregation,  upon 
such  a  day  ?     Who  does  not  feel  the  power  of  Chris- 

Popery  in  Holy  Scripture  and  ancient  authors  ;  and  it  was  not  there.  He  per- 
fectly satisfied  himself  that  the  claims  of  Rome  were  arrogant  and  unfounded. 
He  settled  perfectly  in  the  conviction,  that  the  Church  of  his  choice  was  a  true 
and  living  branch  of  the  Catholic  Church  of  Christ.  And  he  went  forward, 
from  that  moment,  increasing  in  wisdom  and  in  stature,  through  the  grace  of 
her  communion  ;  and  growing  in  knowledge  and  in  virtue,  by  the  wholesome 
nutriment  of  her  divine  instructions.  Never  did  he  cease  to  rejoice,  that  He 
had  taken  him  from  the  mire  and  clay,  and  set  his  feet  upon  a  rock,  and  ordered 
his  goings.  Never  did  he  speak  of  that  eventful  moment  of  his  life,  but  with 
devoutest  gratitude  to  Him,  who  had  delivered  him  from\he  snare  of  the  fowler. 
I  have  put  this  narrative  on  record  here,  as  part  of  the  true  history  of  the 
lamented  subject  of  this  memoir,  on  the  one  hand,  that  it  may  correct  their 
error,  who  underrate  the  dangerous  attraction  of  the  Church  of  Rome;  and  on 
the  other,  that  it  may  reprove  their  calumny,  who  connect  the  teachings  of  the 
Catholic  Church  of  Christ  with  the  corruptions  of  the  Papal  schism.  Multi- 
tudes lie  wiihin  reach  of  the  danger,  by  which  Winslow  was  beset.  The 
searching  spirit  of  inquiry  into  old  foundations,  which  is  now  abroad,  if  rudely 
checked,  or  wrongly  guided,  infinitely  increases  their  danger.  Meanwhile, 
Rome  lies  her  wily  wait.  Is  there  one  for  whom  Antiquity  presents  its  just 
attractions?  Rome  is  ready,  with  her  claim  of  primitive  antiquity.  Is  Unity 
relied  on  1  Rome  presents  her  claim  of  perfect  unity.  Are  the  associations  of 
taste,  and  the  sympathies  of  nature,  and  the  refinements  of  art,  seductive  1 
Rome  is  skilful  to  combine  them  all,  and  make  them  ^most  seducing.  Now, 
false  and  groundless  as  the  pretensions  are  to  antiquity'  and  unity,  on  her  part ; 
and  ineffectual  as  is  her  utmost  use  of  all  "appliances,  and  means,  to  boot,"  to 
hide  the  mass  of  error  and  corruption,  which  festers  at  her  heart,  it  is  not  the 
bare  denial  of  her  claims,  far  less  vituperation  and  abuse,  that  will  restrain  the 

'  See  Dr.  Hook's  sermon,  '•  The  Novelties  of  Romanism  ;"  and  Mr.  New- 
man's "  Lectures  on  the  Prophetical  office  of  the  Church,  viewed  relatively  to 
Romanism  and  Popular  Protestantism." 


Ixii 

tian  zeal  and  integrity — and  let  me  add,  the  magnan- 
imity of  Christian  love — which  has  drawn  around 

tide,  when  once  it  strongly  sets  towards  Rome.  Unless  there  be  the  unques- 
tionable argument  of  Holy  Scripture,  as  interpreted  by  the  consent  of  ancient 
authors,  her  pretensions  will  prevail:  and  unless  there  be  a  system,  palpable, 
that  men  can  grasp  it;  venerable,  that  men  may  reverence  it;  affectionate, 
that  men  will  feel  it,  and  respond  to  it,  and  sympathize  with  it ;  the 
well  compacted,  well  drilled,  well  directed,  Romish  system — hollow,  as  it 
is,  at  heart,  and  hateful — will  get  the  advantage.  Man's  heart  is  warm, 
and  cannot  live  with  cold  abstractions.  Man's  heart  is  social,  and  will  not 
dwell  alone.  Man's  nature  is  dependent,  and  must  lean  on  something. 
Man's  nature  is  religious,  and  must  look  up  to  that  on  which  it  leans. 
The  system  which  meets  these  necessities  of  our  condition  will  be  the  prevail- 
ing system.  Rome  would  prevail,  could  it  be  shown  that  Rome  alone  could 
meet  them.  It  is  incumbent  on  us,  then,  to  show — which  is  the  truth — that 
men  may  have  them  all,  without  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome :  nay,  that  there,  they 
will  not  find  them.  Hence,  the  Catholic  system :  "  its  daily  services,  its  fre- 
quent communions,  its  weekly  fasts,  its  holy  anniversaries ;"  "  an  attempt  to 
realize  heaven  upon  earth,  (o  make  God  all  in  all,  to  bind  men  together  by  the 
ties  of  Christian  brotherhood,  to  promote  those  tempers  of  childlike  submission, 
and  humility,  and  unselfishness,  which  no  believer  in  divine  Revelation  doubts 
to  be  the  distinctive  feature  in  the  Evangelical  character."'  Hence  the  duty,  in- 
cumbent on  the  Church,  to  develop  her  full  system  ;  that  it  may  meet,  to  the  full, 
the  natural  wants  of  men.  "She  has  ample  powers  at  her  command:"  says 
one  whom  I  have  just  quoted,  "why  does  she  keep  them  back?  Why  does 
she  suffer  mere  human  systems  to  usurp  the  empire  over  the  heart?  To  take 
advantage  of  those  cravings  of  man's  religious  nature  which  must  be  satisfied  ; 
and  which,  if  we  will  not  give  them  wholesome  food,  will  seek  out  for  them- 
selves the  unwholesome?  Man's  inward  nature  longs  (for  instance)  for  frequent 
opportunities  for  social  prayer ;  and  the  Church  provides  them  in  her  daily 
morning  and  evening  services.     We  love  to  think  that  our  friends  are  engaged 

'  Preface  to  Oakley's  Whitehall  Sermons,  p.  ix. 


Ixiii 

our  altars  the  multitude  of  those  who  worship  not 
with  us,  to  pour  out  their  hearts  with  ours,  and  min- 
gle tears  with  us  ? 

And,  now,  before  we  leave  him  in  his  peaceful 
grave,  let  us  resolve,  beloved  brethren,  to  leave  beside 
it  whatever  may  be  in  our  hearts,  that  would  disturb 
his  gentle  spirit.  Let  us  resolve,  hereafter,  to  study, 
as  he  studied,  the  pure  word  of  God  ;  to  betake  our- 

in  prayer  at  the  same  time,  and,  if  possible,  in  the  very  same  words,  with  our- 
selves. For  this  feeling,  again,  the  Church  provides  a  direct  satisfaction. 
When  friends  are  elsewhere  in  the  world,  or  have  been  taken  out  of  the  world, 
we  cannot  bear  to  lose  them  from  our  thoughts ;  and  the  Church  consoles  us 
with  her  doctrine  of  the  Communion  of  Saints.  We  recoil  from  solitude,  yet 
must  often  be  alone;  but  though  alone,  the  Church  suffers  us  not  to  be  lonely; 
for  she  brings  us  into  company  with  saints  and  angels.  We  are  much  influ- 
enced by  the  power  of  association ;  and  the  Church,  accordingly,  has  her  con- 
secrated times  and  places.  The  Holy  Communion  is  another  provision  for  the 
wants  of  our  spiritual  nature.  The  occasional  services  (again)  both  elicit  and 
sanctify  the  purest  affections  of  our  hearts.  What,  then,  is  this  charge  of  apa- 
thy ]  Where  else  is  there  such  an  opportunity,  as  the  Church  Catholic 
offers,  for  the  development  of  those  affections  (the  only  affections  worth  develop- 
ing) which  we  shall  carry  with  us  beyond  the  world."' 

But  I  must  check  myself;  for  I  have  entered  on  a  theme  to  fill  a  volume. 
Enough,  if  what  I  have,  rather  hinted  at,  than  said,  shall  move  Churchmen  to 
a  better  estimate  of  the  high  privileges  which  they  enjoy,  as  "fellow  citizens  with 
the  saints,  and  of  the  household  of  God." 

"  Fortunati,  si  sua  bona  norint." 
Enough,  if  I  shall  arrest  but  one,  whose  face  is  turned  towards  that  "  city  of 

'  Oakley's  Whitehall  Sermon,  Preface,  pp.  xl,  xlii. 


Ixiv 

selves,  as  he  betook  himself,  to  the  fountains  of  divine 
grace,  opened  for  us  in  the  Church ;  to  give  ourselves, 
as  he  gave  himself,  habitually,  to  prayer ;  to  be  fol- 
lowers of  him,  as  he  was  the  follower  of  Christ.  So, 
"throuofh  the  orrave  and  orate  of  death,"  still  "look- 
ING  UNTO  Jesus,"  shall  we  pass,  with  him,  "  to  our 
joyful  resurrection,"  through  the  blessed  merits  of 
Him,  ''who  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins:" 
to  whom,  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  be 
ascribed  all  praise,  dominion,  power  and  glory,  now 
and  forevermore.     Amen. 

shadows,"  and  whose  feetnow  stumble  "upon  the  dark  mountains;"  and  lead 
him,  by  the  example  of  the  sainted  Winslow,  to  the  light,  and  peace,  and  steadfast 
trust,  of  that  true  city,  which  hath  foundations — the  type  and  pledge,  on  earth, 
of  "that  great  city,  the  holy  Jerusalem,"  into  which  "there  shall  in  no  wise 
enter ""  any  thing  that  defileth,  neither  whatsoever  worketh  abomination,  or 
maketh  a  lie." 

"  Mother  of  cities !  o'er  thy  head 

Bright  peace,  with  healing  wings  outspread, 
Forevermore  shall  dwell : 

Let  me,  blest  seat!  my  name  behold 

Among  thy  citizens  enrolled, 

And  bid  the  world,  farewell !" 


APPENDIX: 


I.  THK  rector's  address,  AT  THE  HOLY  COMMljNION,  IN  ST.  MARy's 

CHURCH,  ADVENT  SUNDAY,  M  DCCC  XXXIX ; 

II.  OBITUARY  NOTICE,  FROM  THE  BURLINGTON  GAZETTE  ; 

III.  THE    rector's    CHRISTMAS    PASTORAL,    TO    THE    PARISHIONERS 

OF  ST.  MARy's  church. 


Remeniber'them  which  have  the  rule  over  you, 

who  have  spoken  unto  you  the  word  of  God ; 

whose  faith  follow, 

considering  the  end  of  their  conversation, 

JESUS  CHRIST, 

THE  SAME  TESTEllDAT,  AND  TO-DAY,  A!SD  FOU  EVER. 


Beloved  brethren,  I  have  but  few  words  to  say  to  you  to-day  ;  and 
I  need  say  but  kw.  If  there  be  required  an  argument  nnore  powerful 
to  convince  you  of  sin,  an  eloquence  more  attractive  fo  draw  you  to 
the  Saviour,  than  these  memorials  of  his  dying  love,  I  cannot  furnish 
it.  And,  if  there  be  needed  a  more  cogent  application  of  the  subject 
to  each  particular  conscience,  a  warning  more  impressive  to  every 
individual  man,  to  lay  it  to  his  heart,  than  speaks  from  out  that  new 
made  grave,  I  cannot  utter  it. 

We  see  the  broken  bread.  We  see  the  wine  poured  out.  What 
mean  we  by  this  service?  Are  there  ten  thousand  altars  now  so 
spread  for  an  unmeaning  rite?  x\re  holy  men,  in  every  Christian 
land,  engaged  in  a  mere  childish  ceremonial?  Are  myriads  of 
myriads  of  devout  and  penitential  worshippers  prostrate  before  an 
idle  and  unprofitable  pageant?  Has  the  observance  of  a  vain  and 
worthless  institution  been  perpetuated,  through  eighteen  ages,  without 
a  moment's  interruption?  Did  the  divine  and  holy  Saviour  occupy 
the  latest  moments  of  his  precious  life  with  a  mere  form  of  words  : 
and  say  to  his  Apostles,  and,  through  them,  to  all  that  should  believe 
on  him,  in  every  age,  "  this  do  in  remembrance  of  me,"  of  something 
that  men  might  do,  or  might  not  do,  at  their  mere  pleasure — no  better 
and  no  happier  for  doing  it,  and  for  not  doing  it  no  worse  in  conduct  or 
condition?  Beloved  brethren,  judge  for  yourselves,  if  the  scriptural 
ordinance  of  the  Lord's  Supper  mean  nothing,  or  mean  more  than 
words  can  utter.  Both,  it  cannot.  One  or  the  other  it  must  signify. 
And  oh  !  remember,  when  the  latest  opportunity  has  passed  away 
from  you,  when  the  power  of  its  observance  shall  have  ceased  forever, 
when  worlds  on  worlds  could  not  procure  for  you,  if  you  would 
freely  give  them,  the  physical  ability  to  do  that  latest  bidding  of  the 


Ixviii 

Saviour,  "  take,  eat,  this  is  my  body :  do  this  in  remembrance  of 
me" — if  the  conclusion  then  should  be  obtained,  that  it  was  vital  to 
the  soul  ;  that  that  flesh  was  "  meat  indeed,"  and,  that  that  blood 
was  "  drink  indeed  ;"  that,  except  a  man  "  eat  the  flesh  of  the  Son 
of  man,  and  drink  his  blood,"  he  hath  no  life  in  him  :  imagine,  if 
you  can,  the  agony  of  that  self-wrought  conviction.  Weigh,  if  you 
can,  the  load  of  that  intolerable  and  yet  inevitable  remorse.  And, 
while  there  yet  is  time,  flee  to  the  Cross  of  Jesus,  from  the  very 
possibility  of  such  a  condemnation. 

Two  days  before  the  spirit  of  our  dear  departed  friend  was  set  at 
liberty  from  earth,  he  called  me  to  him,  sinking  then,  it  seemed,  into 
the  grave,  with  scarce  a  hope  of  life  beyond  the  following  night ; 
and  whispered  to  me,  that  he  wished  to  receive  once  more  "  the 
blessed  Communion" — so  he  called  it — before  he  died.  I,  of  course, 
assented,  and  the  hour  of  four  of  that  afternoon  was  appointed  for 
the  service ;  his  parting  injunction  being — such  were  the  distressing 
symptoms  of  his  case — that  I  should  administer  to  him  the  smallest 
possible  quantity  of  either  element.  The  hour  of  four  found  him 
unable  to  accomplish  his  soul's  last  wish,  and  he  died  without  another 
opportunity.  To  him,  great  as  the  disappointment  was,  it  brought 
no  sting  of  self  reproach.  Constantly,  from  Easter-day  of  1832, 
had  he  partaken  of  that  spiritual  manna.  Never  had  he  turned 
unfeelingly  away  from  that  poor  bruised  body,  and  that  dear  blood, 
poured  cheaply  out,  like  water,  on  the  ground.  Duly  as  it  was 
spread,  he  bowed,  with  penitential  sorrow,  and  in  a  lively  faith  in 
Christ,  before  the  altar  which  commemorates  his  death.  And  he 
has  now  gone  to  be  with  Him,  whom  he  so  loved,  and  strove  to 
serve,  on  earth :  to  be  partaker  of  the  banquet  which  is  spread  for- 
ever new  before  the  throne  of  God  ;  to  drink  forever  of  the  glorious 
beauty  which  is  beaming  from  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  to  be 
more  and  more  partaker  of  the  divine  nature,  and  more  and  more 
transformed  into  the  likeness  of  His  infinite  perfections. 


Ixix. 

Seldom,  my  beloved  brethren,  does  it  fall  to  any  people's  lot  to 
send  before  them  to  the  rest  of  God  so  ripe  a  saint.  Seldom  does  a 
grave  so  eloquently  speak  of  "Jesus  and  the  resurrection,"  to  believ- 
ing hearts.  Deep  and  awful  the  responsibility  of  such  a  death-bed, 
not  improved  to  deeper  piety  and  loftier  holiness.  Sad  the  meeting, 
when  the  trumpet  shall  be  sounded,  and  the  dead  shall  rise,  with 
him  who  "  being  dead,  yet  speaketh,"  if  his  warning  voice  be  heard 
in  vain.  Oh,  how  his  gentle  nature  yearned  to  see  so  many  of  you 
turn  away  from  the  memorials  of  the  Saviour's  agonizing  death! 
Oh,  how  it  grieved  his  tender  heart,  to  see  so  many  that  profess  the 
love  of  Jesus  here,  reflect  so  little  of  its  glorious  brightness  in  their 
daily  life!  Oh,  how  his  fervent  spirit  was  rejoiced,  when  one  and 
another  from  among  you — in  holy  baptism,  in  the  laying  on  of 
hands,  or  at  the  sacred  supper — came  from  the  world,  to  own  the 
Saviour  before  men ;  and  give  yourselves,  your  souls  and  bodies  to 
his  service,  and  his  glory !  Oh,  with  what  a  smile  of  saintly  satis- 
faction, will  he  hasten  to  the  golden  gate  of  Paradise,  to  meet  each 
one  of  you,  that,  through  the  purchase  of  the  blood-stained  Cross,  in 
faith  and  penitence,  shall  find  admission  there! 

Do  you  shrink  back,  appalled  at  such  a  thought,  in  the  conviction 
of  your  countless  sins  ?  Never  did  weeping  penitent  lie  down  more 
humbly  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  Christ,  than  he  did;  grieved  and  wearied 
with  the  burden  of  his  manifold  transgressions,  and  looking  for  mer- 
cy and  acceptance  only  through  the  purchase  of  the  Cross.  "  As  I 
look  back  upon  my  life  in  the  clear  light  of  this  death-bed,"  he  used 
to  say,  "  it  seems  to  be  all  sin  ;  but  I  humbly  hope  in  the  redeeming 
love  of  Him,  who  died  for  sinners." 

Is  any  one,  through  the  deceitfulness  of  his  own  heart,  disposed 
to  rest  in  services  or  ordinances,  or  any  thing  that  man  has  done, 
or  can  do,  as  sufficient  for  salvation  ?  You  all  know  the  unreserved- 
ness  of  his  self  devotion,  the  alacrity  and  constancy  of  his  obedience, 
the  steady  fervour  of  his  piety,  the  broad  and  self-consuming  flame 


Ixx. 

of  his  unfailing  charity.  And  yet,  it  was  his  chief  jov  to  say,  with 
dying  Richard  Hooker,  "  not  for  my  righteousness,  but  for  the  for- 
giveness of  my  unrighteousness,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 

Is  any  one,  no  matter  through  what  defect  of  education  or  perver- 
sity of  will,  habitually  negligent  of  the  ordinances  of  the  Gospel,  ha- 
bitually careless  of  the  privileges  of  the  Church?  Hear,  how,  to  the 
last,  he  looked,  through  ihem,  to  Jesus,  as  the  "Author  and  the 
Finisher"  of  his  faith.  Hear,  how,  to  the  last,  he  bore  his  clear  un- 
wavering testimony  to  the  preciousness  and  power  of  that  divine 
system  of  faith  and  worship,  in  which  his  piety  was  nurtured ;  and 
asked,  as  the  last  wish  of  his  fainting  heart,  that,  whatever  else  might 
be  the  portion  of  his  orphan  child,  he  might  be  brought  to  holy 
baptism,  and  trained  up  in  the  Church. 

Dear  brethren,  let  not  these  solemn  lessons,  this  instructive  testi- 
mony, this  beautiful  example,  be  m  vain  for  you.  Let  not  our  over- 
whelming loss  be  without  corresponding  gain.  Let  not  the  teachings 
of  his  life,  let  not  the  witness  of  his  death,  be  recorded  in  the  book 
that  is  laid  up  before  the  Lord,  to  increase  your  load  of  condemna- 
tion. Let  us  imitate  his  lofty  holiness.  Let  us  emulate  his  cheer- 
ful piety.  Let  us  aspire  to  his  unfaltering  charity.  Let  us  be  dili- 
gent, as  he  was,  in  the  study  of  God's  word ;  earnest,  as  he  was,  in 
the  services  of  the  Church ;  instant,  as  he  was,  in  the  devotions  of 
the  closet.  So,  through  the  same  grace,  shall  we  attain  to  the  con- 
sistency and  steadfastness  of  his  most  exemplary  life.  So,  through 
the  same  grace,  shall  we  enjoy  the  serenity  and  peacefulness  of  his 
most  comfortable  death.  So  shall  this  present  Advent  be  (he  dawn 
to  us  of  a  new  life,  the  life  of  godliness  on  earth.  And  so,  when 
earth  and  all  the  things  that  are  therein  shall  be  burned  up,  shall  we, 
with  him,  rejoice  forever  in  the  Advent  of  the  Son  of  man  ;  and 
enter,  with  the  train  of  them  that  make  their  calling  sure,  upon  that 
life  of  perfect  glory  and  unmingled  joy,  which  shall  forever  spring, 
immortal  in  the  heavens. 


Ixxi 

<©t)(tuar2  iaottcf. 

From  the  Burlington  Gazette. 

"  Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  his  saints." 

Died,  at  St.  Mary's  Cottage,  Green  Bank,  Burlington,  New  Jer- 
sf?v,  on  Thursday  morning,  November  21,  the  Rev.  Benjamin  Da- 
vis VViNSLow,  Assistant  to  the  Rector  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  in  the 
•25th  year  of  his  age.  A  more  untimely  death  than  this,  as  men 
account  of  time,  has  seldom  been  recorded.  But  He  who  "doeth  all 
things  well  "  hath  put  the  times  and  the  seasons  in  his  own  power: 
and,  since  the  blessed  Son  of  God.  when  he  became  incarnate  for  our 
sins,  was  contented  not  to  know  either  the  day  or  the  hour,  it  be- 
comes us  reverently  to  submit ;  assured  that  though  we  know  not 
now,  we  shall  know  hereafter.  Another  and  a  fuller  opportunity 
will  be  embraced  to  turn  to  their  just  account  the  eminent  virtues  of 
this  young  saint.  The  present  writer  never  knew  a  man  whose 
character  could  be  adopted,  to  depict  more  clearly  and  more  fully 
THE  TRUE  Catholic  Churchman,  in  his  life,  and  in  his  death  : 
and  to  that  pious  duty,  if  it  please  God  to  give  him  time  and  strength, 
he  proposes  to  devote  himself,  as  the  best  service  he  can  render  to 
the  Church,  of  which  the  beloved  VVinslow,  even  at  his  years,  was 
a  pillar  and  an  ornament.  For  the  present,  let  it  suffice,  with  a 
bleeding  heart  and  a  trembling  hand,  to  twine  around  this  polished 
shaft  in  our  sanctuary — fallen,  indeed,  yet  matchless  in  its  beauty — 
a  few  funereal  flowers,  the  tribute  of  true  love  to  his  beloved  and 
imperishable  memory.' 


'  "Another  youn?  soldier  of  the  Church  has  lieen  taken  from  its  earthly  ranks. 
Another  beautiful  cedar  of  Lebanon  lies  prostrate  !  The  papers  of  last  week 
informed  us  of  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Winslow,  of  Burlington  N.  J.,  in  the 
twenty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  In  oflcring  a  short  tribute  to  the  memory  of  this 
younu  servant  of  God,  we  yield  to  the  impulse  of  our  own  feelings,  and  to  the 


Ixxii 

Bknjamin  Davis  Winslow  was  born  in  the  city  of  Boston,  on 
the   13th  day  of  February,  1815.     In   him  "the  boy  was"  truly 


promptings  of  a  heart  that  loved  the  departed  as  a  brother.  Many  biographical 
notices  of  the  beloved  and  gifted  Winslow  have  already  appeared,  and  with 
tearful  eyes  have  we  traced  their  united  testimony  to  his  excellence  and  true 
Christian  worth.  We  believe  that  he  deserved  all  that  has  been  said  of  him  ; 
and  now  that  he  sleeps  in  the  dust,  we  should  like  to  see  the  fair  picture  of  his 
pure  and  pious  life  spread  out  for  the  imitation  of  the  young  and  talented. 
Long  and  intimate  was  our  acquaintance  with  our  departed  brother.  We  re- 
member him  first,  as  a  gentle,  intelligent  boy  of  seven  years  of  age,  with  an  eye 
yet  dim,  and  a  heart  yet  sorrowing  for  the  loss  of  an  affectionate  and  pious 
mother ;  we  remember  with  what  touching  sweetness  he  was  wont  to  repeat, 
even  at  that  tender  age,  the  '  address  of  Cowper  to  his  mother's  picture,'  ap- 
plying its  graphic  lines  to  his  own  case  ;  and  well  do  we  remember  his  conscien- 
tious reverence  for  each  wish  and  direction  of  his  departed  parent.  Morning 
and  evening,  his  infant  prayers  ascended  to  God,  not  in  a  hurried,  formal  man- 
ner, but  with  quietness,  gravity  and  feeling.  Twice  in  each  day  did  he  turn  to 
his  Bible,  and  read  a  portion  of  its  hallowed  pages ;  and,  whatever  else  was  '  left 
undone,"  that  duty  was  sacredly  observed.  Much  of  his  early  life  was  spent 
in  the  country ;  and  the  beauties  of  the  natural  world  were  not  lost  upon  his 
thoughtful  and  observing  mind.  One  bright  Sunday  morning,  when  he  was 
about  eight  years  old,  he  arose  early,  and  after  remaining  a  short  time  in  his 
room,  brought  to  a  friend  some  lines  he  had  composed,  descriptive  of  a  Sunday 
in  the  country.  The  precious  boy  had  laboured  to  express  in  writing  the 
thoughts  that  filled  his  young  heart;  and  mingling,  in  childish  confusion,  large 
and  small  letters,  script  and  printed,  had  actually  prepared  three  verses  of  melo 
dious  poetry, — the  peace,  the  beauty,  the  stillness  of  nature  were  described,  and 
the  goodness  of  God  in  giving  man  a  Sabbath  of  rest.  We  believe  this  to  have 
been  our  young  friend's  first  effort  to  rvrite  verse,  although  we  know  that  he 
'  lisped  in  numbers  '  long  before.  A  painful  affection  of  his  eyes  in  early  life, 
pervented  for  a  time  that  close  application  to  study  which  he  himself  most  earn- 
estly desired :  but  this  circumstance  which  might  by  some  be  deemed  a  misfor- 
tune, in  his  case  lent  increased  vigour  to  his  perceptive  and  reasoning  faculties 


Ixxiii 

«♦  father  of  the  man  " — inquisitive  and  thoughtful  from  his  earliest 
years.     Though  he  lost   his   most  affectionate  and   pious   mother 
when  but  six  years  old,  her  prayers  for  him  were  not  lost.     At  six 
teen,  he  sought  admission  to  the  Church  of  God,  in  holy  baptism 
on  the  full  conviction  of  his  mind  and  heart :  and  from  that  time  de 
voted  himself,  if  God  would  accept  the  offering,  to  the  sacred  minis 
try.     His  residence  at  the  University  in  Cambridge,  from  1831  to 
1835,  was  not  more  distinguished   by  the  rich  and  varied  acquisi- 
tions which  he  made,  than  for  the  influence  which  his  vigorous  mind 
and  attractiveness  of  manner,  sustained  by  an  unwavering  love  of 
truth,  dignified  by  religious  principle,  and   adorned   by  a  seraphic 
piety,  enabled    him   to  exercise.     A  devoted    Churchman,  he  was 
at   the  same  time  the   most  popular  of  all  the  students,  and   the 
highest    in    the    confidence   of   the   Faculty.      The    President    but 
lately  said  of  him,  that   he  was   regarded  always   as   the  pillar  of 
the  University.     Such  is  the  beauty  and  power  of  holiness.     From 
Cambridge   he  came  to  Burlington,  where  he  was  domesticated  in 
the  family  of  the  Bishop  of  New  Jersey,  to  whom  he  was  as  a  son. 
From  October,  1835,  to  June,  1837,  he  was  a  member  of  the  Gen- 
eral Theological  Seminary.     Of  his  standing  there,  it  is  enough  to 
use  the  language  of  a  fellow  student,  who  loved  him  living,  and  la- 


and  gave  a  singular  maturity  and  richness  to  his  thoughts.  His  memory  was 
wonderful ;  and  being  surrounded  by  kind  and  intelligent  friends,  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  listening  daily  to  many  pages  of  instructive  reading.  His  disposition 
was  very  affectionate ;  and  kindness  and  love  dwelt  in  his  heart,  and  shed  their 
influence  upon  those  around  him.  He  never  said  aught  against  any  one  ;  and, 
ever  ready  to  extenuate  the  faults  of  others,  he  was  '  austere  only  to  himself.' 
From  boyhood,  his  feelings  were  keenly  alive  to  the  wants  and  sorrows  of  the 
poor;  and  we  could  give  many  touching  instances  of  his  devotion  to  the  relief 
of  their  necessities.  *****  "  We  take  leave  of  the  subject  with  regret ;  and 
would  willingly  linger  over  the  reminiscences  of  one,  whose  piely,  talents  and 
goodness  form  a  bright  and  beautiful  page  in  the  volume  of  memory." — Souihexn 
Chitrchman. 


Ixxiv 

ments  him  dead,  that  "  he  embodied  in  his  life  and  conversation, 
above  all  men  that  he  had  ever  known,  the  system  and  the  spirit  of 
the  Church."  After  this,  he  spent  a  year  at  Burlington,  pursuing 
his  theological  studies,  and  dignifying  with  pastoral  assiduity  and 
usefulness  the  humble  (but  as  he,  with  the  primitive  Church,  re- 
garded it,  the  most  serviceable,  and  therefore  honourable,)  office  of 
Catechist.  Of  his  devotion  to  the  sick,  and  poor,  and  afflicted,  in 
the  parish,  the  memory  will  never  fail.  He  never  spared  himself, 
and  was  never  weary  in  the  service  of  the  needy  and  distressed. 
He  travelled  miles,  at  night,  and  through  storms,  to  carry  com- 
forts or  refreshments  to  the  sick  and  dying.  He  would  rise 
from  his  bed  at  midnight,  that  he  might  assist  in  turning  a  poor, 
bed-ridden  boy.  He  was  the  almoner  of  the  parish ;  and  never 
rested  in  the  wildest  storm  of  winter,  till  he  knew  that  there 
was  fuel  in  the  house  of  every  poor  old  woman.  Meanwhile, 
he  was  as  a  student  most  assiduous  and  profitable.  A  venerable 
presbyter,  familiar,  for  forty  years,  with  examinations  for  orders, 
declared  his,  the  very  best  he  ever  attended.  He  was  ordained 
Deacon,  in  St.  Mary's  Church,  Burlington,  on  Whitsunday,  1838; 
from  which  time  he  became  Assistant  to  the  Rector  of  the  Church. 
The  neighbouring  parish  of  St.  Stephen's  Church,  Willingborough, 
being  vacant,  he  supplied  it  one  half  of  each  Lord's  Day,  for  many 
months,  regardless  of  fatigue  and  exposure,  and  with  unwearied 
assiduity,  though  at  that  time  far  from  well.  He  was  admitted  to 
the  Priesthood,  on  the  15th  day  of  March,  1839.  His  public  ser- 
vices, from  the  first,  were  striking  and  commanding,  far  beyond  his 
years.  The  present  writer  has  heard  but  very  few  sermons  that 
were  superior  to  his  ;^  and  the  Hon.  Horace  Binney,  a  summer 
parishioner  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  has  often  said,  that  he  had  heard 
none  such  from  a  young  man.  So  early  did  our  loved  one  realize 
that  highest  praise,  "  laudari  a  laudato."     But  far  beyond  even  his 

'  He  wrote  fifty  one  sermons  in  all,  several  of  which  he  destroyed  before  his 
death. 


Ixxv 

ripeness  as  a  scholar,  and  his  manliness  as  a  preacher,  was  the  devo- 
tion of  his  unfailing  benevolence.  He  not  only  continued,  but  in- 
creased, his  labours  among  the  poor  and  the  afflicted.  It  was  his  highest 
pleasure — more  than  his  meat  and  drink — "  to  search  for  the  sick, 
poor  and  impotent  people  of  the  parish,  to  intimate  their  estates, 
names  and  places  where  they  dwell,  unto  the  Curate,  that  by  his 
exhortation  they  might  be  relieved  with  the  alms  of  the  parishioners 
or  others;"  and  it  was  partly  from  these  peculiar  duties  of  the  office, 
and  partly  from  his  surpassing  modesty,  that  he  lingered  in  spirit  in 
the  diaconate,  and  left  it  with  a  feeling  of  reluctance.  He  would 
carry  any  burden,  to  any  distance,  if  it  ministered  to  comfort.  He 
walked  miles  to  watch  with  a  very  sick  woman.  And  once,  when 
he  found  that  the  feelings  of  the  family  would  otherwise  be  hurt,  he 
stole  away,  when  he  was  sick  enough  to  be  in  bed,  to  sit  all  night 
by  the  corpse  of  a  negro  boy.  In  him,  the  gift  of  mercy  proved 
"twice  blessed."  There  was  not  a  citizen  of  Burlington  that  did 
not  respect  and  desire  to  serve  him.  When  the  ear  heard  him 
then  it  blessed  him ;  and  when  the  eye  saw  him  it  gave  witness  to 
him.  Surely,  one  may  say,  in  such  piety  and  such  benevolence, 
there  is  immunity  from  suffering,  and  guaranty  for  length  of  days. 
But  he  lives  long  who  has  lived  well :  and  if  men  could  reckon  on 
security  of  life  from  any  thing,  would  they  not  be  less  considerate 
of  death  even  than  they  are  ? 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  such  usefulness,  and  in  the  bloom  of  domes- 
tic happiness,  with  a  wife  of  less  than  a  year  beside  him,  that  the 
keen  eye  of  science  detected,  in  the  hidden  malady  which  had  dis- 
tressed him  for  some  months,  the  seeds  of  certain  death.  He  had 
been  watched,  with  all  a  father's  love  by  a  physician,  as  tender  and 
skilful  and  judicious  and  devoted  as  ever  man  was  blessed  with  ; 
and  the  ablest  surgical  talent  of  Philadelphia  was  promptly  called 
in  counsel.  But  the  sure  decree  had  issued,  and  our  beloved  was 
marked  for  death.     It  did  not  take  him  by  surpn'se.     He  had  al- 


Ixxvi 

ways  lived  to  die.  And  he  had  long  had  an  impression  that  lengtli 
of  days  was  not  for  him.  Still  while  he  might  hope,  he  hoped:  and 
while  resources  could  be  availed  of,  he  employed  them  for  the  com- 
fort of  his  family,  and,  if  it  should  so  please  God,  that  he  might  longer 
serve  the  Church.  When  he  was  told  that  all  was  given  up  by  his 
physicians,  not  a  feature  of  his  countenance  was  changed.  "  God's 
will  be  done!"  was  the  immediate  and  becoming  expression.  Nay, 
if  he  might  but  be  prepared,  he  would  add,  "Even  so,  Lord  Jesus, 
come  quickly!"  All  his  arrangements  were  made  to  the  most  mi- 
nute detail ;  "as  calmly,"  one  well  remarked,  "  as  if  he  were  going 
on  a  journey."  He  spoke  to  all  his  friends,  of  his  decease,  with  the 
serenity  of  an  old  saint.  All  he  was  anxious  for,  he  said,  was  for 
his  sins.  Them,  he  humbly  trusted,  he  might  cast,  by  faith,  upon 
the  bleeding  Cross.  He  was  from  his  childhood  the  most  conscien- 
tious of  beings.  And,  though,  to  all  who  knew  him,  his  life  seemed 
wrought,  through  grace,  to  the  highest  point  of  excellence  attainable 
to  man,  to  him,  he  said,  it  all  seemed  sinful.  Nevertheless,  he  rest- 
ed on  the  atonement  by  Christ  Jesus;  and  he  desired  his  dying  tes- 
timony to  be  recorded  to  the  sufficiency  and  power  of  those  princi- 
ples and  institutions,  in  which,  as  a  Catholic  Churchman,  he  had 
lived,  and  hoped  to  die.  From  this  blended  self-abasement  and  con- 
fidence in  Christ,  he  never  wavered.  His  last  wish  was  to  receive 
"  the  blessed  Communion,"  (which  he  had  partaken  but  a  few  days  be- 
fore) but  his  symptoms  did  not  permit  it.  The  sufferings  of  his 
whole  sickness  were  great,  and  especially  those  of  the  last  four  days. 
But  he  never  once  complained  or  murmured :  and  often  did  his 
physician  express  his  amazement  at  such  patience  and  serenity  and 
cheerfulness,  and  ascribe  it  clearly  to  the  power  of  his  religion. 
On  the  day  before  he  died,  he  said  to  the  Bishop,  (who  through  all 
his  sickness,  except  when  absent  on  his  autumnal  visitation,  had  been 
with  him,)  "  Do  not  think,  from  the  tones  of  my  voice  that  I  have 
become  a  grumbler ;  I  am  a  little  hoarse." 


Ixxvii 

From  Sunday,  17  November,  the  progress  of  his  dissolution  was 
steady  and  distressing.  Yet,  at  intervals,  he  much  enjoyed  the  read- 
ing of  the  Psalms,  the  conversation  of  him  whom  he  loved  to  call 
his  "spiritual  Father,"  and  the  prayers  of  his  Mother,  the  Church. 
Even  on  the  day  before  his  death,  he  spoke  strongly  of  the  entire 
sufficiency,  for  all  the  purposes  of  devotion,  in  every  condition  of  life, 
of  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer.  He  had  the  satisfaction  to  know 
that  "prayer  had  been  made  to  God  for  him  continually,"  in  his  par- 
ish Church,  for  many  weeks  ;  as  in  others  in  the  diocese.  Solemnly 
did  he  protest  against  what  men  call  "death-bed  repentance,"  es- 
pecially from  the  experience  of  his  own  last  days.  On  Wednesday, 
he  suffered  very  much.  His  decease  had  been  looked  for  on  the  pre- 
vious day.  On  that  night  the  Bishop  and  Mrs,  Doane,  his  aunt, 
(loved  by  him,  and  loving  him,  with  all  the  tenderness  of  a  mother,) 
were  to  have  watched  with  him.  But  as  he  revived  a  little,  and 
they  wished  to  be  with  him  at  the  last,  they  deferred  it  until  Wednes- 
day night.  By  a  merciful  providence,  after  being  awake,  and  with- 
out the  slightest  sustenance  but  water,  for  three  days  and  three 
nights,  he  fell  asleep  for  ten  minutes,  a  little  before  midnight ; 
and  woke,  without  distress,  and  refreshed  for  the  last  struggle. 
Soon,  he  began  to  sink,  but  without  pain  or  suffering  of  any  kind. 
"  I  feel  very  strangely,"  said  he,  "  do  you  think  my  time  is  come?" 
The  Bishop  replied,  that  it  seemed  so,  though  only  God  could  tell. 
"Oh,"  said  he  "  I  have  no  anxiety  for  that;  1  am  only  anxious  for 
my  sins."  "  They  are  washed  away,"  said  the  Bishop,  "  through 
faith  in  the  blood  of  the  Cross,  the  fountain  opened  in  the  Church 
for  sin  and  for  uncleanness."  "  I  humbly  trust  so,"  was  his  meek 
response.  Shortly  after,  as  he  lay  serene  and  still,  he  gently  raised 
his  right  hand,  then  as  cold  as  stone,  and  traced  upon  his  forehead, 
in  silence  and  solemnity,  the  sign  of  the  blessed  Cross.  We  under- 
stood the  omen.  He  was  retracing  his  baptismal  sign.  He  was  re- 
newing his  baptismal  dedication.     He  was  confessing  the  Crucified 


Ixxviii 

once  more  before  men.  He  was  sealing  himself  for  the  sepulchre. 
The  Bishop  pronounced  at  once  the  Commendatory  Benediction,  from 
the  Visitation  service,  to  which  he  fervently  replied  "  Amen :"  and 
when  the  Bishop  then  added,  "  Behold,  the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh 
away  the  sins  of  the  world,"  he  turned  his  eyes  upward,  and  with 
his  finger  pointed  to  the  heavens.  He  was  "  looking  unto  Jesus." 
Nor  did  he  look  in  vain.  Presently  he  said,  "  I  do  not  see  distinct- 
ly,  I  do  not  hear  well."  The  Bishop  used  the  words  in  the  Visitation 
service,  "  The  Almighty  Lord,  who  is  a  most  strong  tower  to  all 
those  who  put  their  trust  in  him,  be  now  and  evermore  thy  defence," 
&c.  Evidently  supposing  that  they  were  meant  to  quiet  any  apprehen- 
sions, he  said  distinctly,  "I  am  calm.  I  have  hope  in  Christ.  But 
I  am  very  weak."  These  were  his  latest  words,  except  of  recogni- 
tion to  his  father,  and  the  kind  and  faithful  female  friend,  who  had  at- 
tended him  through  all  his  sickness,  and  was  with  him  at  the  last. — 
He  gradually  sunk,  breathed  more  and  more  faintl)'',  and  surrendered 
up  his  spirit  to  the  God  who  gave  it,  so  quietly  that  his  latest  breath 
could  not  be  distinguished.     "  So  He  giveth  his  beloved  sleep." 

His  funeral  was  attended  on  Saturday  morning,  in  St.  Mary's 
Church ;  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese,  as  he  had  requested,  scarcely 
performing  the  funeral  service.  After  which  he  was  borne  to  the 
grave  by  his  sorrowing  brethren,  and  followed  by  a  weeping  com- 
munity. His  funeral  sermon  was  to  have  been  preached  on  Sunday 
morning:  but  was  deferred  until  the  afternoon,  at  the  instance  of 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Van  Rensselaer,  the  Presbyterian  minister;  who,  in 
the  name  of  his  own  congregation,  and  those  of  the  Baptists  and 
Methodists,  requested  that  arrangement,  in  a  most  truly  Christian 
letter  :^  that  they  might  transfer  their  worship,  as  he  beautifully  ex- 

'  Right  ReverentI  and  dear  Sir, 

You  are  aware  of  the  deep  sympathy  of  all  denominations  of  Chris- 
tians, in  the  present  affliction  of  your  family  and  Church.  The  departure  of 
Winslow,  has  spread  a  gloom  over  the  community,  of  which  he  was  a  useful 


Ixxix 

pressed  it,  "  to  the  solemnities  of  our  sanctuary,"  and  "  unite  in  our 
expressions  of  respect  and  sympathy."  And,  notwithstanding  the 
violence  of  the  storm,  the  Church  was  filled  to  overflowing.  So 
easy  is  it  to  be  a  decided  and  consistent  Churchman  ;  and  yet,  by  a 
holy  life  and  charitable  conversation,  secure  the  universal  favour. 
Such  is  the  resistless  magnetism  of  Christian  holiness,  imbued  with 
Christian  charity.  G.  W.  D. 

and  cherished  member.  For  one,  I  loved  and  honoured  him  for  his  Christian 
zeal  and  integrity  ;  and  I  but  express  the  opinion  of  the  multitude,  in  this  tes- 
timony to  his  virtuous  character. 

It  has  been  reported  that  the  funeral  sermon  is  to  be  preached  to-morrow 
morning ;  and  it  is  the  object  of  this  note  humbly  to  suggest  whether  you  might 
not  yield  to  the  desire  of  many  from  other  denominations,  and  postpone  it  till 
the  afternoon.  The  Methodists  and  Baptists  have  no  service  at  that  time  ;  and 
we  would  love  to  transfer  our  worship  to  the  solemnities  of  your  own  sanc- 
tuary. 

In  humbly  making  this  proposal,  I  am  not  aware  how  far  the  expectation  of 
your  own  congregation  (which  is  of  course  to  be  specially  consulted,)  would 
be  grieved  and  disappointed  by  any  postponement.  And  there  may  be  other 
reasons,  adverse  to  granting  our  desires,  of  which  you  yourself  are  the  sole 
judge.  But,  if  in  any  way,  it  would  be  consistent  with  the  arrrangements  of 
the  Sabbath  to  allow  very  many  others  to  unite  in  their  expressions  of  interest 
and  sympathy,  we  would  all  esteem  it  a  favour.  At  the  same  time,  I  repeat, 
that  a  denial  would  be  considered  as  springing  from  the  very  best  reasons. 
With  great  regard  and  respect,  yours, 

CoHTLANDT  VaN  ReNSSELAEH. 

Surlington,  Saturday  morning. 

My  very  kind  friend, 

I  have  received  your  most  Christian  note ;  and  hasten  to  say,  that 
your  request  shall  be  complied  with.  It  was  my  purpose  to  attempt  to  pay 
the  tribute  of  a  bleeding  heart  to  my  dear  child,  to-morrow  morning ;  and  it  is 
more  usual  with  us  to  do  so.  But  I  most  cheerfully  adopt  the  arrangement 
you  so  considerately  suggest ;  and  to  which  every  consideration,  but  that  of 
absolute  duty,  should  have  been  yielded,  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  Ac- 
cept my  cordial  thanks  for  the  manner  in  which  you  have  spoken  of  my  be- 
loved son  and  brother,  to  whose  rare  Christian  graces  you  do  but  justice;  and 
believe  me,  most  affectionately,  and  faithfully,  your  friend, 

Geoiige  W.  Doaxe. 
Riverside,  Saturday  morning. 


Ixxx 
5Che  Hector's  mwtutmns  pastoral, 

TO    THE    PARISHIONERS    OF    ST.    MARt's    CUUIlCa. 

Brethren  beloved  in  the  Lord, 

The  cheerful  Christmas  season  comes  to  us,  this  year,  in  clouds. 
On  our  most  holy  places,  the  habiliments  of  woe  have  but  just  yielded 
to  the  garments  of  rejoicing.  With  the  myrtle,  and  the  laurel,  and 
the  box,  that  testify  our  gratitude  and  gladness  for  a  Redeemer  born, 
there  is  a  mingling  of  funereal  cypress.  A  new  grave  garners,  till 
the  resurrection  morning,  the  precious  dust  of  the  beloved  Winslow. 
What  then?  Shall  we  not  rejoice  at  "  the  good  tidings  of  great  joy," 
that  "  unto  us  is  born,  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour, 
which  is  Christ  the  Lord?"  "  Oh,  say  not  so,"  said  he,  in  his  last 
days,  to  one,  who  spoke  of  having  a  gloomy  Christmas,  on  account 
of  his  decease — "  Oh,  say  not  so,  but  think  what  we  should  all  be, 
but  for  the  birth  which  Christmas-day  commemorates  !"  Beloved, 
it  is  even  so.  The  Christian's  joy  must  always  be  "  with  trembling." 
The  Christian's  sorrow  can  never  be  "  without  hope."  "  And  this 
alternation  of  joy  and  sorrow  ;"  as  one  hath  beautifully  said,  "of  joy 
not  unsubdued,  and  sorrow  not  unmitigated,  is  characteristic  of  that 
divine  system,  through  which  the  Church  would  train  her  children  for 
heaven.  Each  week  has  its  Fast,  as  well  as  its  Feast ;  as  if  to  teach  us 
that  would  we  rise  with  Christ,  we  must  also  suffer  with  Him.  We 
are  ushered,  through  Vigils,  into  Festivals;  and  are  moulded  into 
fitness  for  our  Easter  joy,  by  the  penitential  discipline  of  Lent,  Our 
joy  is  never  all  joyful,  neither  is  our  sorrow  all  sorrowful.  We 
sorrow,  as  having  hope  elsewhere  ;  and  rejoice,  as  still  in  the  body. 
Such  is  the  Church's  portion,  while  militant  in  the  world.  Soon  the 
world  shall  melt  away  from  around  her  ;  than  shall  she  rejoice  with- 
out sorrowing,"  That  in  that  blessed  season  of  the  Church's  joy, 
we  may  all  rejoice,  through  grace,  "  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full 
of  glory,"  devoutly  prays  your  friend  and  Christian  Pastor, 

George  W.  Doane. 
Riverside,  St.  Thomas^  Day,  1839. 


SERMONS 


SERMON  I. 


THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED. 

The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved. 

Jeremiah  viii.  20. 

These  words  are  put  in  the  lips  of  the  Jews,  by  Jere- 
miah, in  prophetic  vision,  as  expressive  of  the  horri- 
ble despair,  which  would  come  upon  them,  when  all 
hope  of  assistance  from  the  Egyptians  and  other  al- 
lies should  be  lost,  and  the  armies  of  Babylon  should 
have  gathered  beneath  their  gates,  and  laid  waste 
their  palaces,  their  cities,  and  their  country.  The 
voice  of  the  cry  of  the  daughters  of  his  people  had 
reached  the  ears  of  the  stricken  seer,  the  voice  of 
calm  and  terrible  despair :  for,  as  the  judgments  of 
God  gathered  fast  upon  them;  fire,  sword,  and  the 
clashing  chain  of  captivity,  one  by  one,  all  their  ne- 
glected opportunities  and  means  of  safety,  all  the 
goodness  and  mercy  extended  unto  them,  and  their 
fathers,  in  the  days  of  old,  by  God,  even  their  Gody 
all  the  pleasant  hours  which  they  had  spent  in  their 
quiet  homes  with  friends  and  kindred,  all  the  horrors 
of  an  exile  in  a  strange  land,  the  broken  family-circle^ 
the  deserted  home,  the  bed  of  death,  unattended  by 
one  familiar  form,  uncheered  by  one  remembered 
voice,  the  burial  by  the  cold,  careless  hand  of  stran- 
gers, the  grave  unmoistened  by  one  kindly  tear,  and 
far  above  them  all,  the  righteous  indignation  of  an 


4     THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED. 

offended  God,  flashed  upon  the  mind's  eye;  and  each 
crushed  heart,  in  remorse  and  regret  for  the  past,  and 
in  utter  despair  for  the  future,  gave  vent  to  that  bit- 
ter, that  hopeless  lamentation,  **the  harvest  is  past, 
the  summer  is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved." 

My  brethren,  the  wicked  and  impenitent  Jews, 
from  whose  lips  this  bitter  exclamation  was  wrung, 
have  gone  to  their  account,  gone  to  their  own  place, 
gone,  perchance,  with  all  those  sins  and  iniquities 
which  forced,  as  it  were,  from  heaven,  such  dreadful 
manifestations  of  the  wrath  of  God,  unrepented  of 
and  unpardoned.  And  what  a  fearful  thing  it  is, 
that  at  this  very  moment,  while  we,  in  this  Christian 
congregation,  are  dwelling  upon  their  sorrows  and 
their  doom;  they,  in  the  regions  of  the  departed,  may 
be  recalling  neglected  opportunities  and  means  of 
grace,  slighted  menaces  and  despised  warnings,  and 
exclaiming  "our  harvest  is  past,  our  summer  is 
ended,  and" — oh!  with  what  horrible  despair  must 
they  add,  as  the  interminable  future  of  woe  bursts 
upon  them — "  we  are  not  saved."  That  cry,  uttered 
long  centuries  ago,  that  cry,  this  very  moment  echoed 
by  the  lost,  is  not  permitted  to  reach  us  without  its 
appropriate  lesson.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  some  of 
you  might  use  the  same  lamentation,  with  equal  pro- 
priety; it  is  to  be  feared  that  some  of  you  have  suf- 
fered the  summer  of  grace  and  opportunities  to  fade 
away,  and  now  you  are  not  saved.  As  yet,  however, 
thank  God !  that  cry  is  not  uttered  in  final  despair. 
The  present  moment  is  left  you.  And  may  God 
grant  that  by  none  of  you  this  present  opportunity  of 
making  your  peace  with  Him,  through  Jesus  Christ, 


THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED.  5 

may  afterwards  be  regarded,  when  the  great  harvest 
is  past,  as  one  of  the  golden  summer  days,  suffered 
to  shine  on  neglected  and  uncultivated  hearts ;  suf- 
fered to  dawn  and  brighten  and  fade,  and  its  long 
twilight  to  linger  over  you,  and  then  pass  away  for- 
ever, leaving  you  not  saved.  I  invite  you,  then, 
my  brethren,  to  consider  with  me  some  of  the  oppor- 
tunities and  means  of  salvation  put  within  the  reach 
of  all,  and  the  manner  in  which  men  usually  neglect 
them ;  then  the  causes  of  such  neglect ;  and,  lastly, 
the  certain  and  dreadful  consequences  of  so  doing. 

I.  If  life  be  "  the  time  to  serve  the  Lord,"  youth 
is  the  great  and  best  opportunity  for  performing,  or 
rather  commencing,  the  great  work  of  salvation;  of 
submitting  ourselves  wholly,  body  and  soul  to  God, 
and  thus  obtaining  righteousness,  pardon  and  peace, 
by  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  the  power  of  the  indwell- 
ing Spirit.  For  the  right  improvement  of  this  season, 
we  have  both  the  commandment  and  the  promise  of 
God,  "remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of 
thy  youth;"  and,  "  they  that  seek  me  early  shall  find 
me."  It  is  the  spring  time  of  life;  and  the  heart  is 
then  more  fitted  to  receive  the  seeds  of  the  divine 
word,  and  the  dews  of  divine  grace.  The  freedom 
from  much  care  and  business,  the  good  influence  of 
home  and  friends,  it  may  be  of  that  best  of  earthly 
friends  "  a  Christian  mother,"  and  the  affections  di- 
rected to  better  objects  than  in  after-life,  all  combine 
to  render  it  the  fitting,  the  best,  I  might  almost  say, 
the  only  time  to  turn  to  God,  and  do  His  will.  These 
remarks  are  chiefly  and  more  especially  true  of  those 
baptized  in  infancy.     Born  into  a  world  of  sin  and 


6         THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED. 

sorrow,  born  with  a  sinful  nature,  they  are  at  once 
brought  to  the  Saviour  by  His  Church,  and  grafted 
into  Him ;  and  they  commence  their  lives  as  children 
of  God,  partakers  of  his  grace,  heirs  according  to  the 
promise,  in  a  justified,  and  regenerate  state.  What 
substantial  blessings,  real  privileges  and  glorious 
hopes  belong  to  them,  in  the  dawn  of  their  lives ! 
But  how  often  is  the  precious  baptismal  gift  squan- 
dered away,  and  utterly  lost  by  sin!  How  often 
might  those  who,  in  early  childhood,  by  the  chancel 
rail,  heartily  thanked  their  heavenly  Father  that  He 
had  called  them  to  "this  state  of  salvation,"  exclaim, 
when  a  few  years  more  had  passed  over  their  heads, 
despite  of  the  love  of  Christ,  the  nurturing  care  of 
the  Church,  of  parents,  of  sponsors,  we  are  not  saved! 
Ah,  how  often  are  youth  and  early  religious  oppor- 
tunities entirely  lost!  And  how  are  you,  young 
friends,  using  the  day  and  means  of  grace  ?  Is  the 
heart  given  up  to  God  ?  Has  the  seed  sown  by  the 
great  husbandman  sprung  up  into  a  tree  of  life? 
Are  you  using  all  the  means  given  you  by  God,  to 
cultivate  the  tender  plant,  praying  for  the  early  and 
the  latter  rain  of  God's  blessing  and  grace?  Only 
look  around  you,  in  the  world,  in  your  own  hearts, 
and  you  will  have  an  answer  to  these  questions. 
Here  is  one  young  person  gifted  with  talents,  rich  in 
all  but  the  things  pertaining  to  the  kingdom  of  God, 
wasting  his  youth  in  pleasure.  His  heart  is  as  yet 
green  and  un withered,  but  no  seed  of  God's  word 
has  taken  root  there ;  rank  weeds  and  noxious  plants 
are  springing  up  in  the  place  of  the  tree  of  life.  He 
has  many  friends  with  whom  he  mingles  often,  and 


THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED.    7 

pledges  them  in  the  intoxicating  cup.     The  haunts 
of  pleasure,  it  may  be  the  haunts  of  vice,  often  wit- 
ness their  vows  of  hollow  friendship.     But  he  has 
done  nothing  to  secure  the  friendship  of  Him  that 
''sticketh  closer  than  a  brother."     His  home  is  no 
longer  to  him  a  place  of  delight,  and  the  tender  ac- 
cents of  a  mother,  and  the  wise  counsels  of  a  father, 
are  neglected  and  despised.     And  to  the  heavenly 
home  and  the  heavenly  Father,  he  is  an  utter  stranger. 
There  is  another  who  has  not  taste  or  relish  for  the 
sinful  pleasures  of  the  world,  but  it  is  not  because 
they  are  sinful.     His  idol  is  gold.     Day  after  day  he 
spends  in  the  place  of  business,  toiling  for  a  little, 
yellow  dust ;  meanwhile  neglecting  God,  his  intel- 
lect, his  heart.     Such  a  one  the  world  would  com- 
mend as  an  honorable  example  of  industry;  but  look 
at  him  as  he  really  is.     It  is  his  springtime  of  life ; 
every  thing  about  him  invites  to  something  better 
and  purer  than  riches.     But  his  heart  is  as  dry  as 
summer  dust :  no  love  of  God,  no  holy  affections,  no 
hopes  of  heaven  are  there;  and  "the  cares  of  this 
world  and  the  deceitfulness  of  riches  "  have  choked 
the  word  of  God.     There  is  another  who  might  be 
a  blessing  to  all  around  her,  and  the  beloved  of  God, 
frittering  away  the  day  of  salvation,  in  the  service  of 
society,  sedulously  adorning  that  body  on  which  ere 
long   the  hungry  grave-worm   will   banquet,   while 
rankling  envy,  or  overbearing  pride  inhabit  the  soul, 
which  the  Spirit  of  God  has  in  vain  sought  for  His 
temple ;  or  from  which  he  has  been  banished,  it  may 
be,  to  return  no  more.     Are  there  any  such  here? 
Or  are  any  passing  into  the  summer  of  life,  leaving 


8    THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED. 

its  spring  unimproved  ?  Oh,  beware !  It  will  be  very 
hard  to  do  that  amid  all  the  cares  and  business  of 
manhood,  which  was  left  undone  in  the  carelessness 
and  comparative  innocence  of  youth.  Soon,  old  age 
will  be  upon  you ;  and  how  desolate  and  cheerless  you 
will  be,  with  the  remembrance  of  a  life  lost,  with  the 
prospect  of  a  soul  eternally  ruined.  How  similar  is 
your  case  to  that  of  the  wretched  Jews  !  They  sought 
for  aid  from  the  Egyptians  against  impending  destruc- 
tion. The  Egyptians  to  whom  you  have  resorted 
have  been  the  pleasures,  the  honours,  the  riches  of 
this  world.  In  both  cases,  the  looked-for  succour 
was  not  received ;  and,  like  them,  you  are  now  left, 
old,  wasted,  forsaken,  to  the  fearful  wrath  of  God. 
Your  summer  is  ended,  your  harvest  is  past;  you 
are  not  saved.  Oh,  cry  earnestly  to  the  great  Lord 
of  the  harvest,  if  even  now  he  will  hear  you  !  It  may 
be  that  that  plant  will  bloom  amid  the  unkindly  frosts 
and  snows  of  age,  that  was  not  nursed  by  the  dews 
of  spring?  or  matured  by  the  sun  of  summer.  But,  if 
it  bloom  at  all,  it  must  be  watered  by  the  bitterest 
tears  of  repentance ;  if  it  bloom  at  all,  it  will  here  be 
**  a  small  unsightly  root,"  and  in  another  country  will 
bear  "  its  bright  golden  flower."  Meanwhile,  the  re- 
ligion implanted  in  youth,  will  have  sprung  and 
spread  into  a  beautiful  tree,  ready  to  be  transplanted 
to  the  evergreen  banks  of  that  river  whose  streams 
make  glad  the  city  of  our  God.  Thus  is  life — and 
youth  especially — that  great,  that  best  opportunity  of 
salvation,  too  often  neglected  by  men.  Their  spring 
is  passed  in  pleasure;  their  summer  in  the  fierce 
struggle  for  riches,  place,  and  power ;  and  at  harvest 


THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED.    9 

time  they  reap  the  whirlwind  of  divine  displeasure. 
Their  autumn  is  a  season  of  withered  hopes  and  fal- 
len pride;  their  winter  of  spiritual  desolation  and 
death.     Thus  they  are  "not  saved." 

Besides  this  favorable  season  of  youth  which  is  so 
often  passed  through  without  improvement,  we  must 
consider  some  other  seasons  and  opportunities  and 
means  of  grace  which  meet  with,  similar  neglect. 
The  holy  Scriptures,  the  preached  word,  the  ordinan- 
ces of  religion,  the  striving  of  the  Spirit,  the  day  of 
rest,  the  various  dispensations  of  Providence,  es- 
pecially those  which  concern  ourselves,  are  each  and 
all  blessings  shed  along  that  spiritual  summer  in 
which  we  must  be  saved.  Each  day  is  a  day  of 
grace ;  and  how  many  when  looking  back  upon  this 
present  day,  upon  this  present  opportunity  of  salva- 
tion, will  be  compelled  to  say  with  the  afflicted  house 
of  Judah,  "  the  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended :" 
the  grace  this  day  proffered  has  been  spurned,  the 
time  and  opportunity  thus  neglected  are  recorded 
against  us  in  the  book  of  remembrance ;  and  yet  we 
are  still  in  our  sins,  "we  are  not  saved."  You  all, 
my  brethren,  have  the  means  enumerated  above 
within  your  reach ;  and  some  of  you,  must  I  not  say, 
many  of  you,  neglect  them.  You  have  the  Bible  in 
your  houses ;  nay,  you  even  have  its  precious  words 
in  your  memories,  but  you  have  not  its  truths  in 
your  hearts.  The  warnings,  the  exhortations,  the 
invitations  addressed  to  you  at  Church,  are  by  too 
many  of  you  applied  to  your  friends,  neighbours;  to 
any  and  all  but  yourselves.  The  influences  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  are  extended  to  all;   but  when   con- 


10   THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED. 

vinced  of  sin,  when  led  for  a  moment  to  think  seri- 
ously of  death  and  the  judgment,  you  turn  aside  from 
the  "  still  small  voice,"  you  banish  the  unwelcome 
fear,  and  ascribe  remorse  to  the  state  of  the  animal 
system,  or  try  to  persuade  yourselves  that  it  is  not 
"a  fearful  thing"  for  an  unforgiven  sinner  to  "fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  living  God."  Or  some  darling 
idol  is  removed  by  the  kind  hand  of  your  heavenly 
Father,  some  creature  loved  more  than  the  Creator; 
but  sorrow  does  not  lead  to  repentance  unto  life.  You 
plunge  more  madly  than  ever  into  pleasure  or  busi- 
ness; and  consolation  is  sought  in  and  from  the 
world,  and  not  from  Him  that  overcame  the  world. 
All  these  things,  are  as  it  w^ere,  summer  sunbeams, 
sent  down  to  w^arm  into  life  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit; 
and  thus  too  often  are  sent  in  vain.  But  the  sum- 
mer of  grace  is  waning  fast.  Soon  will  the  great 
reaper  go  forth,  and  the  harvest  be  gathered  in.  My 
brethren,  who  of  you,  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  all 
the  means  and  opportunities  which  have  been  named, 
as  yet  are  "not  saved?" 

II.  And  now  let  us  inquire  why  it  is  that  men 
thus  neglect  the  day  and  means  of  salvation ;  why  it  is 
that  so  many  run  the  fearful  risk  of  losing  their  im- 
mortal souls.  The  answers  to  these  questions  must 
necessarily  be  brief.  A  disbelief  in  the  promises 
and  threatenings  of  God  must  be  one  cause  of  such  a 
course  of  conduct.  A  disposition  to  put  off  the  day 
of  salvation  is  another.  False  hope  is  continually 
whispering  to  men  that  theirs  is  not  the  common  lot; 
that  even  if  they  do  not  repent  they  will  escape ;  that 
some  favourable  opening  will  be  made  especially  for 


THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED.   11 

them.  This  hope  is  ever  dancing  like  a  meteor  about 
their  paths,  and  attracting  their  eyes  from  the  light 
which  shines  on  the  way  of  everlasting  life.  This 
hope  often  illumines  with  its  false  glare  the  darkest 
moments  of  the  impenitent,  and  in  some  cases  grows 
not  pale  even  by  the  bed  of  death.  It  must  grow 
dim,  and  fade  forever  in  the  lurid  lustre  of  that  flame 
which  is  not  quenched !  Lastly,  like  the  Jews  of 
old,  men  expect  aid  from  the  Egyptians.  Their 
riches,  their  pleasures,  their  business  is  their  present 
refuge  from  remorse.  Will  they  be  their  refuge  from 
the  judgments  of  God?  Oh!  you  who  are  trusting 
in  such  perishable  objects,  only  reflect  for  a  moment 
how  helpless,  and  desolate,  and  comfortless  you  are, 
when  sickness  keeps  you  from  the  wonted  place  of 
business,  renders  you  incapable  of  tasting  the  cup  of 
pleasure,  or  racks  you  with  pains  which  all  the  riches 
of  earth  cannot  alleviate.  And  how  will  it  be  with 
you  when  riches  and  pleasures  {ijoiir  pleasures)  and 
business  are  at  an  end  forever;  and  you  have  nothing 
left  but  the  remembrance  of  an  unholy  life,  and  an 
account  to  render  to  a  perfectly  just  Judge  ? 

III.  But  we  shall  see  farther  the  extreme  folly  and 
madness  of  this  course  of  conduct,  if  we  consider  the 
last  head  of  the  discourse ;  the  certain  and  dreadful 
consequences  of  so  doing.  I  desire  earnestly  to  fix  your 
attention  on  the  certainty  of  the  loss  of  salvation,  if 
the  summer,  the  grace,  be  suffered  to  go  by  unim- 
proved. I  say  the  certainty;  for  all  will  admit  that 
the  loss  of  salvation  itself  is  a  fearful  thing.  And 
men  would  not  so  frequently  throw  away  their  souls 
if  they  realized   the  fearful  consequences  of  their 


# 


12   THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED. 

course  of  conduct.  This  was  one  of  the  causes  of 
the  loss  of  the  house  of  Judah.  God's  threatenings 
against  them  were  fearful,  but  they  did  not  realize 
their  terrible  character.  But  when  their  summer 
was  ended,  conviction  came  in  all  its  horror — they 
were  ^'■not  saved  T 

All  the  dealings  of  God  in  the  physical  universe 
abundantly  show  that  he  has  attached  fearful  penal- 
ties to  the  neglect  of  opportunities;  and  that  those 
penalties  must  surely  be  paid.  Take  the  case  of  a 
slothful  husbandman :  and  the  case  is  highly  appo- 
site, since  the  language  of  the  text  has  a  reference  to 
agricultural  pursuits.  Such  an  one  neglects  the 
seed-time,  and  what  is  his  situation  at  harvest? 
While  the  fields  about  him  are  waving  with  the  yel- 
low grain,  ripe  for  the  sickle,  his  own  ground  is  an 
uncultivated  waste.  Yet  a  few  days,  and  the  storms 
of  winter  howl  around  him ;  and  he  is  in  famine,  and 
want,  and  misery.  His  harvest  is  past,  his  summer 
is  ended,  he  is  not  saved.  Or  look  at  him  who  has 
neglected  youth,  that  golden  season  for  mental,  moral 
and  physical  improvement,  and  has  devoted  it  to  idle- 
ness and  vice.  What  are  the  consequences  of  his 
course?  Poverty,  disease,  loss  of  character,  of  intel- 
lect, of  affection,  and  in  most  cases  an  untimely 
death.  Now  if  such  are  the  dealings  of  God  in  the 
physical,  we  have  every  reason  to  expect  the  same 
in  the  moral  world.  If  the  husbandman  who  ne- 
glects seed-time  and  summer,  starves  in  the  winter; 
if  the  youth  who  has  plunged  into  vicious  excesses 
perishes ;  there  is  every  reason  to  expect  that  he  who 
neglects  the  spiritual  seed-time,  will  not  be  saved  in 


THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED.   13 

the  harvest  of  the  end  of  the  world.  And  surely, 
my  brethren,  sacred  history  abundantly  confirms  this 
analogy.  Take  the  case  of  the  Jews  alone.  What 
a  long  summer  of  grace  was  given  to  them  !  Some 
clouds  and  shadows  obscured  its  brightness,  but  they 
were  sent  to  correct  and  reform.  Grace  after  grace 
was  given,  opportunity  after  opportunity  afforded, 
and  still  they  repented  not.  And  at  the  close  of  their 
probation,  in  the  very  last  days  of  their  summer,  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness  beamed  out  in  fullest  splen- 
dour, but  shone  in  vain  on  their  cold,  hard  hearts. 
Their  summer  was  at  last  ended,  their  harvest  came 
and  passed  away.  They  were  not — they  are  "not 
saved."  The  prophet  foretold  hundreds  of  years  ago, 
"  my  God  shall  make  you  wanderers  among  the  na- 
tions;" and  we,  my  brethren,  see  it,  this  very  day 
sadly  verified. 

"The  wild  dove  hath  her  nest,  the  fox  his  cave, 
Mankind  their  country,  Israel  but  the  grave." 

Thus  much  for  the  certainty  of  the  woe  denounced 
upon  those  who  neglect  that  summer  given  to  ripen 
the  spirit  for  eternal  glory. 

Of  the  awful  character  of  that  woe,  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  speak.  Our  safest  language  upon  the 
subject  is  that  of  Scripture.  Yet  it  is  evident  that 
among  its  bitter  ingredients  will  be  remorse  for,  and 
consciousness  of,  neglected  opportunities ;  the  sense 
of  having  brought  all  this  misery  upon  one's  self.  If 
language  was  ever  appropriate  to  any,  the  words  of 
our  text  will  be  to  those  who,  after  the  morning  of 
the  great  harvest,  the  day  of  judgment,  shall  find 
that  they  are  "not  saved."     After  the  first  amaze- 


14   THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED. 

ment  has  passed  by,  and  the  lost  spirit  realizes  all 
the  horrors  of  its  situation,  it  will  recur  to  the  past — 
to  baptismal  gifts  and  privileges;  to  the  early  teach- 
ings of  parents  in  the  way  of  righteousness;  to  its 
golden  childhood  and  happy  youth,  which  might 
have  been  days  of  salvation;  the  Bible,  with  all  its 
offers  of  pardon  and  peace ;  the  many  w^arnings  given 
from  the  pulpit;  the  earnest  calls  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  will  clearly  see  that  had  those  privileges  and 
times  been  improved,  those  teachings  received, 
those  offers  embraced,  it  might  have  been  in  hea- 
ven. Then,  too,  will  it  realize  the  inestimable  love 
of  Jesus,  in  dying  to  save  us  from  the  curse  and 
misery  of  sin,  and  feel  that  it  too  once  had  an  inter- 
est in  that  death;  that  its  sins  might  once  have 
been  washed  away  in  His  precious  blood.  And  then, 
banished  forever  from  the  presence  of  God,  and,  it 
may  be,  from  tenderly  beloved  friends;  sold  irreco- 
verably to  sin;  in  misery,  in  torment,  in  "the  black- 
ness of  darkness,"  will  it  exclaim,  with  the  horrible 
calmness  of  despair,  "the  harvest  is  past,  the  sum- 
mer is  ended,  and  I  am  not  saved."  And  all  the 
fearful  company  of  the  lost  will  echo  back  the  cry, 
^'we  are  not  saved!"  And  that  cry  will  ring  on 
through  eternity!  Can  any  words  adequately  de- 
scribe the  state  of  such  a  soul  ?  Yet  this  is  the  state 
to  which  every  soul  is  now  condemned,  who  is  not, 
by  a  living  faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  habitually  victo- 
rious over  sin,  or  at  any  rate  seriously  striving  to  be- 
come so !  Is  it  an  awful  thing  for  the  never-dying 
soul  to  be  lost?  Are  there  no  lost  souls  here?  Let 
us  all  apply  the  scriptural  text  to  ourselves,  before 


THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED.   15 

we  presume  to  answer  such  a  question — "  He  that 
belie veth  on  Him  is  not  condemned ;  but  he  that  be- 
lieveth  not  is  condemned  already,  because  he  hath 
not  believed  in  the  name  of  the  only  begotten  Son  of 
God."  And  again,  "He  that  believeth  on  the  Son 
hath  everlasting  life;  and  he  that  believeth  not  on 
the  Son  shall  not  see  life;  but  the  wrath  of  God 
abideth  on  him." 

Brethren,  I  have  but  a  few  words  to  add  to  these 
fearful  declarations.  Your  summer  has  not  yet 
ended.  You  have  yet  one  more  day  of  grace;  that 
is  to-daij.  To-day,  then,  ye  who  have  never  known 
God,  or  have  wandered  from  Him,  be  reconciled  to 
Him,  through  the  Saviour;  ^Ho-day,  if  ye  7vill  hear 
His  voice  harden  not  your  hearts."  Go  to  our  blessed 
and  merciful  Redeemer,  and  you  shall  be  saved — 
saved  from  such  a  doom  as  that  described ;  and,  bet- 
ter and  more  glorious  still,  saved  from  the  power  of 
tyrant  sin,  and  restored  to  the  lost  dignity  of  sons  of 
God.  "Work  out,"  then,  your  own  salvation,  I  en- 
treat you,  "while  it  is  called  to-daij;''^  else  to-morrow 
you  may  be  exclaiming,  '^tlie  harvest  is  past,  the  sum- 
mer is  ended,  and  rve  are  not  saved.'' ^ 

Beloved,  brethren,  are  there  not  some  of  you  who 
come  Sunday  after  Sunday  to  Church,  and  listen  to 
the  Gospel  of  salvation,  and  yet  go  back  to  your 
homes,  conscious  that  you  are  not  saved;  that  you 
are  not  in  such  a  state  that  if  your  souls  should  this 
night  be  required  of  you,  you  could  meet  death  with 
calmness  and  serenity,  with  a  reasonable  hope  of  sal- 
vation, through  Christ?  And  how  long  is  it  to  be 
so?     How  many  more  days  of  rest  will  call  you  up 


]  6   THE  DAY  AND  MEANS  OF  GRACE  NEGLECTED. 

hither  from  the  turmoil  of  business,  before  you  re- 
pent, and  believe,  and  obey  the  Gospel?  Have  you 
made  a  covenant  with  death  to  spare  you  till  you 
have  made  your  peace  with  God?  Consider  that 
this  may  be  the  very  last  call  to  repentance  that  you 
will  ever  have ;  and  rest  assured  that  every  time  you 
hear  the  Gospel,  unmoved,  your  heart  becomes  more 
and  more  hardened  against  its  claims. 


SERMON  IL 

THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world. 

St.  John  i.  29. 

These  few  words,  spoken  by  John  the  Baptist,  of 
our  blessed  Saviour,  are  full  of  meaning,  and  declare 
one  of  the  great  doctrines  of  the  Gospel.  They  reveal 
a  truth,  which,  from  the  fall,  had  been  mysteriously 
shadowed  forth  by  sacrifices  and  offerings,  "which 
could  never  take  away  sin."  In  a  word,  we  have 
here  what  is  commonly  called  the  doctrine  of  the 
atonement.  A  doctrine  which  is  full  of  comfort  to  all 
who  are  zealously  set  upon  forsaking  sin,  and  turn- 
ing to  God;  for  by  it  we  are  assured  that  there  is 
nothing  to  impede  the  mercy  of  God  from  those  who 
are  willing  to  be  saved.  A  doctrine  which  is  awfully 
mysterious,  and  has  greatly  exercised  the  human  in- 
tellect, and  we  might  almost  say  in  vain.  A  doc- 
trine which  is  best  understood  by  those  who  have 
experienced  its  healing  and  cleansing  efficacy;  and 
who  know,  from  an  inv/ard  knowledge  of  the  Cross, 
that  it  is  indeed  "the  power  of  God  and  the  wisdom 
of  God." 

By  duly  considering  what  is  meant  by  the  phrases, 
'^Lamh  of  God''  and  ''taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world,'"  we  may  attain  to  a  full  apprehension  of  the 
doctrine  here  unfolded. 

3 


18  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

The  phrase  "Lamb  of  God"  is  evidently  a  sacri- 
ficial one,  and  alludes  to  a  Lamb,  whose  blood,  un- 
der the  old  covenant,  bore  some  analogy  to  the 
blood  of  Christ,  under  the  new.  Thus,  in  the  first 
epistle  general  of  St.  Peter,  Christ  is  spoken  of  as 
a  Lamb  without  blemish,  by  whose  blood  men  are 
redeemed;  and  also  St.  John  the  Divine,  in  the 
Apocalypse,  calls  Him  the  Lamb  which  had  been 
slain,  and,  by  his  blood,  redeemed  men,  from  all 
the  nations  of  the  world.  Now  in  all  these  pas- 
sages, there  is  a  plain  allusion  either  to  the  Paschal 
Lamb,  by  whose  blood  the  children  of  Israel  had 
been  delivered  from  the  destroying  Angel  in  the  land 
of  Egypt,  or  else  to  the  Lamb  of  the  daily  sacrifice; 
which  latter  allusion  is  the  most  probable.  But 
what  was  the  object  and  meaning  of  the  daily  sacri- 
fice? How,  or  where,  did  the  custom  of  animal  sa- 
crifices originate?  Answers  to  these  questions  are 
necessary  to  a  full  explanation  of  our  subject. 

How  then  did  animal  sacrifices  originate  ?  Of  the 
universality  of  this  custom  you  are  all  aware.  It 
either  was  a  deduction  of  reason,  or  it  was  from  the 
immediate  command  of  God.  But  is  there  any  natu- 
ral connection  between  the  death  of  an  innocent  vic- 
tim, and  the  propitiation  of  the  Deity,  and  the  con- 
sequent remission  of  sins;  under  which  notion,  we 
find,  that  victims  were  generally  put  to  death?  Evi- 
dently there  is  none ;  and  so  we  are  reduced  to  one 
of  tv/o  modes  of  accounting  for  the  first  introduction, 
and  subsequent  prevalence  of  this  custom.  Either, 
that  it  was  the  rude  guess  of  the  first  man,  who,  alas ! 
for  us,  was  also  the  first  sinner,  which  was  handed 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  19 

down  through  the  various  families  of  men,  and  was 
afterwards  taken  up  by  God;  or  that  it  was  in  the 
outset  expressly  enjoined  by  God,  as  a  means  of  at- 
taining a  certain  end.  Now  from  the  want  of  any 
apparent  connection  between  the  death  of  an  inno- 
cent victim,  and  the  removal  of  guilt,  there  is  a 
strong  presumption  against  animal  sacrifice  being 
the  invention  of  any  man ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  re- 
volting character  of  the  custom  itself.  Moreover,  is 
it  probable  that  God  would  have  taken  up  with  such 
a  custom,  and  have  accommodated  his  plans  to  it? 
Has  it  generally  been  the  mode  of  God  to  accommo- 
date his  plans  to  the  erroneous  apprehensions  of  his 
creatures?  Surely  He  did  not  do  it  under  the  Mo- 
saic dispensation,  which  enjoined  many  things  di- 
rectly opposite  to  the  then  prevailing  notions.  Surely 
He  did  not  thus  proceed,  in  the  first  appearing  of 
our  Saviour ;  who  came  in  a  manner,  and  in  a  guise, 
entirely  different  from  what  was  fondly  anticipated 
by  His  chosen  people.  And  even  if  it  were  possible 
that  Adam  should  have  invented  this  religious  rite, 
how  easily  it  might  have  been  checked  in  the  outset : 
for  it  is  probable  that  the  first  sacrifices  were  offered 
before  Adam  and  Eve  were  banished  from  the  gar- 
den of  Eden;  and  so  before  they  were  finally  de- 
prived of  the  more  immediate  presence,  and  direct 
communications,  of  God.  And  if  it  were  the  inven- 
tion of  man,  is  it  probable  that  God  would  have  per- 
mitted its  continuance,  and  thus  have  caused  the 
sufferings  and  death  of  innumerable  creatures  formed 
and  cherished  by  Him ;  and  so  the  objects,  in  com- 
mon with  creatures  of  a  higher  order,  of  his  bound- 


20  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

less  and  infinite  love?  I  think  not.  And  we  may 
safely  infer  from  what  has  been  said,  which  indeed 
has  been  the  prevailing  opinion  among  Christian 
people,  that  sacrifices  were  in  the  outset  commanded 
by  God. 

But  what  then  was  their  object  ?.  What  their  signi- 
ficancy?  Did  they  have  any  reference  to  any  future 
event?  It  seems  that  the  notion  under  which  they 
were  offered  up  was  this :  that  the  sin  of  the  person, 
or  persons,  offering  them,  or  causing  them  to  be 
offered,  was  transferred  to  the  victims;  who,  thus 
bearing  the  punishment  of  the  sins,  made  expiation 
for  them,  by  which  the  sinner  was  brought  into  a 
state  of  acceptance  with  God.  Nor  was  this  notion 
confined  to  the  Jews,  since  w^e  find  that  it  obtained 
equally  among  the  Gentiles.  As  an  illustration  of 
the  view  taken  of  the  peculiar  efficacy  of  animal  sa- 
crifice, we  have  the  following  passage  from  the  book 
of  Leviticus,  where  it  is  connected  with  the  prohibi- 
tion of  the  use  of  blood,  and  indeed  is  given  as  the 
reason  of  that  restriction — "  For  the  life  of  the  flesh  is 
in  the  blood :  and  I  have  given  it  to  you  upon  the 
altar,  to  make  atonement  for  your  souls :  for  it  is  the 
blood  that  maketh  an  atonement  for  the  soul."  With 
this  connect  St.  Paul,  "and  without  shedding  of 
blood  is  no  remission,"  and  we  thus  obtain  a  suffi- 
ciently clear  notion  of  the  object  for  which  animals 
were  sacrificed ;  namely,  to  procure  remission  of  sin. 
And  this  view  might  be  abundantly  confirmed  by 
citations  from  other  parts  of  the  Pentateuch,  where 
the  institution  of  sacrifices  is  treated  of. 

Moreover,  from  finding,  in  the  New  Testament, 


THE  LAIVIB  OF  GOD.  21 

the  same  sacrificial  terms  applied  to  Christ,  and  the 
death  of  Christ,  that  we  find  applied  to  the  sacrifices 
"under  the  Law;  and  from  the  express  comparison 
which  we  find  instituted  between  the  former  and  the 
latter,  by  St.  Paul,  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrev/s, 
we  are  led  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  sacrifices  of 
the  Mosaic  dispensation,  although  doubtless  for  the 
time  being  available  to  the  remission  of  sin,  yet,  at 
the  best,  were  but  shadows  and  types  of  that  one 
great  sacrifice,  which  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  on  the 
Cross,  offered  up  once  for  all;  namely,  His  own  life, 
for  the  life  of  the  world.  And  so,  in  one  respect,  the 
sacrifices  of  the  old,  were  similar  to  the  sacrament  of 
the  Lord's  Supper,  under  the  new,  covenant.  The 
latter,  as  a  commemorative  sacrifice,  shows  forth  the 
Lord's  death  until  his  second  coming;  the  former 
represented  and  shadowed  forth  that  death  until  He 
had  taken  human  nature  upon  Him,  and,  being  found 
in  the  fashion  of  a  man,  was  obedient  to  the  death  of 
the  Cross.  The  typical  character  of  the  old  sacri- 
fices may  be  farther  proved  and  illustrated,  from  the 
wonderful  analogy  found  to  exist  between  them  and 
the  great  sacrifice  of  Christ.  Especially  consider 
the  institution  of  the  Paschal  Lamb,  and  observe 
how  strongly  and  evidently  it  refers  to  the  Lamb  of 
God.  The  Lamb  of  the  Passover  was  to  be  without 
spot  or  blemish;  care  was  to  be  taken  that  not  a 
bone  of  him  was  to  be  broken ;  and  he  was  to  be  slain 
on  the  fourteenth  day  of  the  month,  at  the  first  even- 
ing; that  is  at  the  Jewish  ninth,  and  at  our  third 
(afternoon)  hour.  Now,  note  the  wonderful  analogy. 
Christ,  by  the  immaculate  conception,  and   by  his 


22  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

holy  life,  was  without  moral  spot  or  blemish ;  he  died 
on  the  same  day  of  the  month,  and  on  the  same  hour 
of  the  day,  on  which  the  Paschal  Lamb  was  slain; 
and,  contrary  to  custom,  not  a  bone  of  Him  was  bro- 
ken. Add  to  all  this,  St.  Paul,  in  the  first  Epistle 
to  the  Corinthians,  expressly  terms  Him,  "Christ 
our  Passover,"  or  Paschal  Lamb,  "sacrificed  for  us." 
Thus  much  for  the  explanation  of  the  term  "Lamb 
of  God;"  by  which  we  understand,  that  Christ  is  to 
the  world,  only  in  a  far  higher  sense,  what  these  ya- 
rious  sacrifices  of  the  Lamb  were  to  those  under  the 
Law.  What  our  blessed  Lord  was  to  the  world,  or, 
rather,  in  what  sense  he  was  a  sacrifice  for  the  world, 
we  shall  presently  see,  in  the  unfolding  of  that  other 
phrase  in  the  text,  which  was  to  receive  particular 
explanation,  namely,  "taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world." 

What  then,  are  we  to  understand  by  these  words? 
Some  explain  them  of  Christ's  reforming  men  by  His 
holy  example  and  spotless  life.  But,  alas !  who  can 
say  tliat  the  world  follows  the  Lamb  whithersoever 
he  goeth?  Others  again  would  see  in  them  an  allu- 
sion to  that  inward  and  spiritual  effect  of  the  blood 
of  Christ  upon  the  conscience,  the  purifying  it  from 
dead  works,  the  cleansing  of  the  moral  nature  from 
the  pollution  and  corruption  of  sin.  But,  although 
these  are  effects,  and  I  may  say  the  great  effiects,  of 
the  death  of  Christ,  yet  these  are  not  so  much  alluded 
to  here.  The  taking  away  of  sin,  is  evidently  some- 
thing which  Christ  does,  not  in  the  lives,  or  moral 
natures  of  those — alas,  how  few ! — who  are  constant- 
ly crucified  with  Him,  who  are  daily  rising  with 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  23 

Him,  and  who  will  one  day  rise  to  Him,  to  be  for- 
ever with  Him;  but  is  rather  something  which 
Christ  did  once  for  all,  for  all  who  had  ever  lived, 
for  all  who  were  to  live,  for  the  whole  family  of  Adam. 
This  phrase,  taking  or  bearing  sin,  is  applied  in  the 
Old  Testament  scriptures,  to  animals  bearing  the  sins 
of  those  offering  them  up,  to  children  bearing  their 
fathers'  sins,  and  to  persons  bearing  their  own  sins ; 
all  of  which  expressions,  evidently  mean,  bearing  or 
suffering  the  punishment  of  sins.  Now,  we  find  the 
same  phrases  applied  to  Christ,  in  the  Scriptures, 
both  in  the  Old  and  New  Testament.  Thus  in 
Isaiah,  it  is  said,  that  Christ  has  borne  our  griefs, 
was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  was  bruised  for 
our  iniquities ;  that  the  Lord  hath  laid  on  Him  the 
iniquity  of  us  all,  and  that  he  bears  the  sin  of  many : 
and,  in  various  portions  of  the  New  Testament, 
we  are  told,  that  Christ  "bore  our  sins  in  His  own 
body;  that  He  was  ''made  sin,"  that  is,  a  sin  offer- 
ing, for  us;  that  He  was  "once  offered  to  bear  the 
sins  of  many;"  and  that  He  "suffered  once  for  sin, 
the  Just  for  the  unjust,  that  He  might  bring  us 
to  God,"  with  many  like  phrases  and  expressions. 
And,  having  compared  all  these  things,  v/e  may 
clearly  gather  that  the  phrase,  taking  away  the  sin  of 
the  world,  means  that  our  blessed  Lord,  in  His  cross 
and  passion  and  precious  death,  bore  the  punishment 
of  the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  and  thus  put  all  the 
world  in  a  state  of  salvability ;  made  it  possible  for 
every  man  to  be  saved,  reconciled  the  whole  world  to 
God.  With  these  explanations  and  illustrations  from 
Scripture,  we  may  clearly  perceive  the  meaning  of 


24  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

our  text.  John  the  Baptist,  seeing  Jesus  coming, 
says  to  his  disciples.  This  is  He  of  whom  I  have 
preached  to  you;  this  is  He  for  whom,  for  whose 
coming  and  Kingdom,  I  have  called  you,  and  prepared 
you.  Behold  Him!  not  a  frail  creature,  but  the 
Lamb  of  God ;  offered  up  not  daily,  for  the  sins  of  a 
single  nation;  but,  once  for  all,  expiating  by  his  pre- 
cious blood  the  sins  of  the  whole  world. 

This  great  and  blessed  truth  has,  nevertheless, 
been  the  subject  of  much  doubt,  cavilling  and  specu- 
lation. Men  have  been  found  so  bold  and  rash,  as  to 
object  to  it  the  manifest  injustice  of  making  an  in- 
nocent being  suffer  for  the  sins  of  the  guilty.  Others, 
there  have  been,  who,  obliged  to  receive  the  atone- 
ment as  a  truth  contained  in  the  word  of  God,  have 
rashly  dared  to  account  for  it,  to  penetrate  into  the 
inmost  counsels  of  the  Most  High,  and  to  discover, 
as  they  vainly  imagined,  all  the  reasons  that  made  it 
necessary  for  the  Eternal  Son  to  become  incarnate, 
and  to  die,  and  the  mode  in  which  His  precious  death 
has  reconciled  the  world  to  God. 

Was  it  then,  unjust  in  the  Father  to  lay  upon  the 
Son  the  iniquities  of  us  all?  Brethren,  instead  of 
directly  answering  this  question,  I  bid  you  to  look 
abroad  in  the  world.  Do  we  not  constantly  see  some 
men  suffering  for  the  sins  of  others?  Children  under- 
going, in  a  certain  sense,  the  penalty  of  the  vices  and 
follies  of  their  parents  ?  And  if  this  objection  is  good, 
against  the  death  of  our  blessed  Lord,  remember,  that 
it  may  be  shovvii  that  the  same  injustice  (if  it  be) 
exists  in  the  established  order  of  things  in  the  world. 
But  how  do  men  generally  regard  vicarious  suffer- 


THE  LA!\IB  OF  GOD.  25 

iugs,  that  is  to  say,  sufferings  voluntarily  undergone 
in  behalf  of  another?  The  pale  mother  wastes  her 
life  and  health,  in  the  support  of  her  lielpless  off- 
spring; the  wife  is  found  willing  to  snatch  her  hus- 
band from  the  remorseless  grave,  at  the  cost  of  her 
own  life ;  in  behalf  of  his  friend,  he  is  found  who 
will  even  dare  to  die;  a  Howard  counts  not  his  life 
dear  to  himself,  so  he  may  rescue  from  misery  and 
degradation  the  guilty  inmates  of  the  prison;  yea, 
even  the  unreasoning  brute  has  often  been,  whose 
strong  affection  poured  her  life  forth  for  her  little  ones ; 
and  men  are  lost  in  admiration,  and  there  is  not  a 
heart  that  does  not  thrill  with  generous  emotion,  at  the 
recital  of  such  noble  self-sacrifices.  But  from  God, 
commending  His  love  towards  us,  "in  that  while  we 
were  yet  sinners  Christ  died  for  us,"  men  turn  coldly 
away,  and  talk  about  the  injustice  of  causing  or  even 
allowing  the  innocent  to  suffer  for  the  guilty.  It  is 
indeed  awful,  to  hear  sinners  and  rebels,  amid  the 
gloom  of  Calvary,  the  rending  veil,  and  the  quaking- 
rock,  calling  for  justice,  and  cavilling  about  those 
sufferings  which,  they  themselves  have  inflicted  upon 
the  Son  of  God.  Woe  to  them  in  that  day,  when 
meek  Mercy  leaves  the  judgment  seat,  and  stern  Jus- 
tice takes  her  place !  Woe  to  them  in  that  day,  when 
they  shall  stand  up  to  receive  according  to  the  deeds 
done  in  the  body!  Woe  to  them  in  that  day,  when 
they  must  appear  before  the  just  God,  and  bear 
every  man  his  own  sins!  But,  let  it  be  remembered, 
in  answer  to  this  objection,  that  the  sufferings  of  our 
blessed  Lord  were  perfectly  voluntary.  When  sacri- 
fices and  burnt  offerings  were  no  longer  acceptable  at 


26  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

the  throne  of  the  universe,  there  came  a  voice  from  the 
eternal  Word,  "Lo,  I  come:  in  the  volume  of  the 
book  it  is  written  of  me,  I  delight  to  do  thy  will,  0 
my  God;  yea,  thy  law  is  within  my  heart."  Yea, 
and  at  the  last  moment.  He  could  have  remounted  to 
the  bosom  of  His  Father,  and  left  us  unredeemed. 
"Thinkest  thou  that  I  cannot  now  pray  to  my 
Father,  and  he  shall  presently  give  me  more  than 
twelve  legions  of  angels?  But  how  then  shall  the 
Scriptures  be  fulfilled,  that  thus  it  must  be?" 

Others,  again,  will  ask,  why  not  forgive  without  a 
sacrifice?  Why  not  admit  to  favour  and  pardon 
upon  sincere  repentance?  The  man  who  asks  such 
questions,  can  have  no  adequate  conception  of  the 
exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin;  can  know  but  little  of 
the  misery  and  desolation  which  it  has  introduced 
into  the  moral  and  physical  world.  When  he  re- 
members that  by  sin  death  entered  into  the  world, 
and  that  ''death  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that 
all  have  sinned;"  that  a  single  transgression  occa- 
sioned all  the  agonies  that  have  racked  the  human 
frame,  and  made  this  earth  a  sepulchre ;  he  will  cease 
to  wonder  that  the  price  of  our  redemption,  from 
such  a  curse,  was  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God.  Be- 
sides, do  we  find  repentance  sufficient  to  restore 
health  to  the  diseased  profligate?  His  squandered 
estate  to  the  prodigal?  To  avert  the  just  punish- 
ments from  the  offenders  against  human  laws  ?  The 
man  who  has  lost  his  health  and  strength  in  vicious 
courses  always  repents;  but  he  recovers  them  not 
for  all  that !  The  spendthrift  starves ;  but  his  tears 
do  not  bring  back  his  wasted  substance.     No  cry  of 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  27 

terror  rescues  from  merited  punishment  the  little  of- 
fender against  the  peace  and  good  order  of  the  house- 
hold or  the  school.  No  late  repentance  deprives  the 
gibbet  of  its  victim,  or  unlocks  the  iron-bound  door 
of  the  prison  house.  And  so  men  expect  from  God, 
what  they  do  not  ask  from,  or  give  to,  each  other. 
Repentance  is  no  expiation  for  crimes  against  man ! 
Why,  then,  should  it  suffice  to  atone  for  offences  com- 
mitted against  the  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords? 
We  shall  find  upon  reflection  that  God  deals  more 
mercifully,  and  kindly  with  us,  than  we  deal  with 
each  other.  Over  all  human  tribunals  is  written, 
"an  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth;"  while 
over  the  throne  of  God  is  inscribed,  "this  is  a  faith- 
ful saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that  Christ 
Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners." 

Why,  then,  was  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  necessary  ? 
And  how  did  it  avail  to  our  reconciliation  to  God? 
Answers  to  these  questions  cannot  be  given.  There 
is  a  depth  in  this  awful  subject,  which  no  human 
understanding  can  penetrate :  and  we  may  well  be- 
lieve that  the  highest  Archangel  shrinks  from  it,  in 
amazement  at  Divine  condescension.  Divine  wisdom, 
and  Divine  love.  There  are,  however,  those  who  pro- 
fess to  explain  it  fully;  to  show  the  perfect  conform- 
ity of  the  plan  to  our  notions  of  right;  and  to  render 
the  preaching  of  the  Cross  no  longer  "foolishness," 
even  to  the  wise,  and  the  disputer,  of  this  world. 
Some,  while  they  admit  the  reality  of  the  fact  of  the 
death  of  Christ  under  the  notion  of  an  expiation,  ex- 
plain that  sad  event  rather  as  a  mere  manifestation  of 
God's  hatred  of  sin,  than  as  a  real  atoning  sacrifice. 


28  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

They  speak  of  it  as  if  it  was  necessary  that  the  precious 
blood  of  the  Lamb  of  God  should  be  poured  out,  be- 
fore God  could  look  upon  the  race  of  man  with  love 
and  mercy.  Beware  of  these,  and  similar  views. 
There  is  an  awful,  and,  to  us,  impenetrable,  mystery 
which  shrouds  the  humanity,  the  death,  and  sacri- 
fice of  Christ.  One  thing  we  do  know,  that  that 
must  have  been  a  great  necessity,  which  brought  the 
Son  from  the  bosom  of  the  Father;  detained  him 
here  for  years,  in  mortal  guise,  and  low  estate;  and 
at  last  led  Him  to  a  painful  and  ignominious  death. 
But  while  you  admit  the  reality,  and  the  necessity, 
of  this  mysterious  sacrifice,  beware,  too,  of  forming, 
in  connection  with  it,  notions  derogatory  to  the  good- 
ness of  God.  Necessary  as  that  sacrifice  must  have 
been,  it  is  only  the  second  link  in  that  golden  chain 
of  redemption,  which  has  been  let  down  from  the 
regions  of  light,  and  purity,  and  blessedness,  to  draw 
thither  the  poor,  lost  race  of  Adam.  There  is  yet 
one  above  it,  which  binds  it  to  the  throne  of  the 
Eternal.  It  is  the  love  of  God.  Our  blessed  Lord 
did  not  die  for  us,  because  God  hated  us.  Oh  no! 
'*  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He  gave  his  only  be- 
gotten Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should 
not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  No  sooner 
had  man  fallen,  than  God  announced  a  Deliverer. 
At  that  same  ineffable  council  of  the  mysterious 
Three,  at  which  it  was  decreed,  "let  us  make  man  in 
our  image;"  was  promulgated  the  gracious  purpose, 
"let  us  create  him  anew  in  the  image  of  God." 
God  is  love;  and,  by  the  death  and  sacrifice  of  our 
blessed  Lord,  commendeth  his  love  towards  us,  "in 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  29 

that,  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for  us." 
Beloved  brethren,  if  you  are  ever  tempted,  by  the 
spirit  of  lies,  to  doubt,  or  to  cavil  at,  or  to  frame  vain 
theories  about,  this  truth ;  go  at  once  under  the  awful 
shadow  of  the  Cross,  look  up  at  the  pale,  meek  suf- 
ferer, writhing  in  agony  upon  the  accursed  tree,  and 
realize  that  you  have  pierced  those  quivering  hands 
and  feet;  that  your  sins  "gave  sharpness  to  the  nail, 
and  pointed  every  thorn:"  and  thus  doubts,  and 
cavils,  and  exceptions,  will  be  lost,  in  profound  sor- 
row, for  the  share  that  you  had  in  nailing  Him  to 
the  Cross,  and  in  overflowing  gratitude  for  the  amaz- 
ing love  of  God. 

Brethren,  the  text  points  us  to  the  Cross  of  Christ. 
To  the  Cross,  I  bid  you  all  look,  and  be  healed. 
"  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the 
sins  of  the  world!"  Let  the  profane,  the  drunkard, 
the  profligate,  the  careless,  the  worldly-minded,  all 
who  are  living  in  wilful  and  habitual  sin,  all  who  are 
not  living  to  the  glory  of  God,  behold  their  crucified 
Redeemer.  To  them  the  Cross  is  a  fearful  sight; 
fearful,  on  account  of  the  great  hatred  for  sin  mani- 
fested by  it.  Learn  from  it,  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  sinning  upon  easy  terms.  You  often  say, 
that  it  seems  very  hard  that  God  should  punish, 
throughout  eternity,  the  sins  committed  during  a 
few  brief  years.  It  may  be,  if  Christ  had  not  died 
for  the  ungodly,  that  this  complaint  might  have  been 
made,  with  some  show  of  justice.  But  when  you 
remember  that  you  were  redeemed  by  the  humilia- 
tion, sufferings  and  death  of  the  eternal  Son  of  God, 
you  will  cease  to  wonder  that  God  punishes,  so  fear- 


30  THE  LAMB  OF  GOD. 

fully,  those  who  count  that  blood  of  the  covenant, 
wherewith  they  were  sanctified,  an  unholy  thing. 
Dear  brethren,  how  can  you  escape,  if  you  neglect 
this  great  salvation  ? 

And  let  those  whose  consciences  are  burdened 
with  nnforgiven  sins,  "behold  the  Lamb  of  God!" 
Our  Saviour  is  still  ready  to  take  away  your  sins. 
Only  beware  of  substituting,  as  a  ground  of  hope, 
that  which  our  blessed  Lord  did  for  you,  and  for  all 
men,  for  that  which  must  be  done  by  Him,  in  you. 
Vainly,  for  you,  was  the  Cross  set  up  on  Calvary, 
unless  it  is  set  up  in  your  own  hearts.  Christ  is  not 
the  minister  of  sin.  I  use  this  caution,  because  it  is 
to  be  feared  that  many  persons  entertain  the  notion, 
that  they  may  go  on  committing  what  they  are 
pleased  to  term  lesser  sins;  and  then,  at  the  last,  be  in 
some  way  saved  by  the  blood  of  Christ.  But  Christ, 
let  it  be  remembered,  "gave  himself  up  for  us,  that 
he  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity^  and  purify 
unto  himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of  good 
works."  If  you  earnestly  desire  to  forsake  your  sins 
— every  thing  wrong — and  to  do,  and  to  be,  in  body, 
soul  and  spirit,  perfectly  right,  then  not  in  vain  may 
you  look  to  the  Lamb  of  God  for  pardon;  for  He  is 
faithful  and  just  not  only  to  forgive  you  your  sins, 
but  also  to  do  that,  without  which  forgiveness  would 
be  but  a  poor  gift,  to  cleanse  you  from  all  unrighteous- 
ness. Christian,  ever  "behold  the  Lamb  of  God." 
"When  you  rise,  the  Cross;  when  you  lie  down,  the 
Cross ;  in  your  thoughts,  the  Cross ;  in  your  studies, 
the  Cross;  every  where,  and  at  every  time,  the  Cross, 
shining  more  glorious  than  the  sun."  When,  through 


THE  LAMB  OF  GOD.  31 

frailty,  or  want  of  due  vigilance,  you  are  seduced 
into  momentary  sin,  then  behold  the  Lamb  of  God, 
ready  to  take  it  away;  the  Lamb  of  God,  your  Advo- 
cate with  the  Father,  your  undying  intercessor,  un- 
changing in  his  compassion  and  pity  for  poor,  lost 
human  nature,  and  for  you — "Jesus  Christ,  the  same 
yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever."  And  when  the  last 
agonies  of  death  come  over  you,  and,  amid  the  sor- 
rows of  parting  from  the  beloved  of  your  heart,  and 
the  fear  which  too  often  shades  that  awful  moment, 
the  follies  and  sins  of  your  past  life  sweep  before  the 
closing  eye,  in  a  sad  and  gloomy  train;  and,  though 
repented  of,  and  washed  away  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb,  yet  weigh  once  again  heavily  upon  the 
shrinking  soul;  then,  behold,  to  your  unspeakable 
comfort,  the  Lamb  of  God,  taking  away  the  sin  of 
the  world — yea,  those  very  sins  which  accuse  you — 
and,  in  peace,  and  in  hope,  enter  into  the  paradise  of 
your  reconciled  God. 


SERMON  III. 

THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

The  Church  of  the  living  God,  the  pillar  and  ground  of  the  truth, 

1  Timothy,  iii.  15. 

It  must  often  strike  the  careful  reader  of  Holy  Scrip- 
ture, that  certain  portions  have  been  dictated  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  who  knoweth  all  things,  not  only  with 
reference  to  the  general  wants  of  mankind,  but  also 
to  meet  the  necessities  of  particular  states  of  things, 
through  which  he  knew  that  certain  generations  of 
men  would  pass.  This  remark  seems  especially  ap- 
plicable to  the  words  under  consideration.  It  should 
seem,  that  when  the  blessed  Apostle  Saint  Paul  de- 
scribed "the  Church  of  the  living  God,"  as  "the  pil- 
lar and  ground  of  the  truth,"  he,  with  prophetic  eye, 
looked  forward  to  times,  when  there  would  be  multi- 
tudes rising  up  and  saying,  "lo!  here  is  Christ,  and 
lo  there  is  Christ;"  "  I  am  of  Paul,  and  I  of  Cephas, 
and  I  of  Apollos;"  this  is  truth,  that  is  truth;  or 
truth  is  a  matter  of  indifference,  provided  the  affec- 
tions be  only  right :  when  there  would  be  multitudes 
asking,  with  Pilate,  "  what  is  truth?"  to  whom  delu- 
sive answers  would  be  given ;  and  when  the  one  way 
marked  out  by  Christ,  would  be  almost  the  last  way 
thought  of  by  vain  and  conceited  men.  I  say,  it 
should  seem,  that  these  words  were  kindly  written 
for  our  own  times ;  to  recall  us  from  the  tangled  and 


THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD.  §3 

devious  paths  of  error  and  doubt,  into  which  our  feet 
have  wandered ;  to  break  in,  with  the  tone  of  digni- 
fied authority,  upon  our  wranglings  and  disputations ; 
and  to  remind  us  that,  notwithstanding  our  helps  for 
the  attainment  of  the  truth;  our  learning,  our  phi- 
losophy, our  critical  acuteness,  and  our  various  gifts ; 
there  is  yet  "a  more  excellent  way,"  and  that  way, 
"  the  Church  of  the  living  God."  My  brethren,  I 
cannot  doubt  that  you  all  earnestly  desire  the  truth ; 
that  knowing  the  immutability  of  truth,  and  that  the 
imaorinations  of  man  cannot  make  things  different 
from  what  they  really  are,  it  is  your  earnest  wish  to 
be  led  into  all  truth ;  that  you  would  think  of  God 
as  He  really  is,  and  not  as  He  may  be  in  the  fancies 
of  different  men ;  that  you  would  walk  to  heaven 
in  the  way  actually  marked  out  by  your  blessed 
Redeemer,  and  not  in  paths  opened  without  author- 
ity, and  ending  we  know  not  where.  If  these 
things  be  so,  dear  brethren ;  if  you  do  honestly  prefer 
to  know  things  as  theij  really  are,  rather  than  as  you 
would  have  them,  I  earnestly  beg  your  attention,  for 
a  few  moments,  to  what  is  too  apt  to  be  considered  a 
dull  and  unprofitable  subject.  I  know  that  most  of 
you  prefer  those  subjects  which  seem  to  have  a  more 
particular  bearing  upon  one's  own  salvation  and 
spiritual  well-being:  but,  before  this  discourse  is 
ended,  it  is  hoped  that  you  will  each  see,  that  you 
have  a  personal  interest  in  the  topic  which  we  are 
about  to  consider.  Besides,  the  institution  to  be 
treated  of  is  not  human,  but  divine,  ''  the  Church  of 
the  living  God;"  and  surely,  "the  body  of  Christ," 
"  the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth   all   things,"  can 


'M  THE  CirURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

never,  or  ought  never  to  be  a  dull  or  an  unprofitable 
theme  for  the  meditations  of  the  children  of  God.  It 
is  true  that  the  present  may  be  regarded  as  founda- 
tion work;  yet  who  but  a  child  ever  chided  the 
workman,  carefully  and  safely  laying  the  foundations 
of  an  edifice,  impatient  for  the  more  showy  and  at- 
tractive superstructure  to  arise?  Without  a  solid 
foundation,  what  building  can  endure  the  ravages  of 
time?  Remember,  dear  brethren,  that  you  are  not 
to  be  long  here;  yet  a  few  brief  years — it  may  be 
days — and  the  long  grass  will  wave  above  you.  And 
do  you  not  feel  heartily  desirous,  that,  when  your 
voices  can  no  longer  profess  "  the  faith  once  deli- 
vered to  the  saints,"  or  swell  our  ancient  strains  of 
devotion  in  these  consecrated  walls,  your  children 
may  unfeignedly  hold,  in  righteousness  of  life,  "the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus ;"  and  walk  on  in  those  good 
old  paths,  in  w^hich  you  are  now  finding  rest  for 
your  souls?  As  you  love  the  truth,  as  you  love 
your  own  souls,  as  you  love  your  children  and  the 
coming  generations  of  men,  as  you  love  Him  who 
loved  you  to  the  death,  consider  patiently,  ^^the 
Church  of  the  living  God  ;"  and  the  Church,  as  ^Hhe 
pillar  and  ground  of  the  truths 

The  Church  spoken  of  in  this  text  means  not  the 
number  of  religious  and  devout  persons  scattered 
throughout  the  world,  nor  yet  any  particular  or  na- 
tional Church,  by  itself  considered.  The  institution 
referred  to,  is  that  body  which  in  the  Apostles'  Creed 
is  called  "the  Holy  Catholic  Church;"  that  one  great 
society  of  faithful  men,  called  out  of  the  world,  by 
Christ,  baptized  by  one  Spirit  into  this  one  body, 


HIE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD.  3S 

having  one  Lord,  one  faith,  one  common  hope  of  sal- 
vation. That  there  has  been  such  a  body,  and  but 
one  such  body,  ever  since  the  day  of  Pentecost,  may 
be  abundantly  proved  from  Holy  Scripture — "The 
Lord  added  to  the  Church,  daily,  such  as  should  be 
saved."  Christ  is  said  to  be  "head  over  all  things 
to  the  Church,  which  is  his  body,  the  fulness  of  Him 
that  lilleth  all  in  all."  Christ  is  also  said  to  have 
"loved  the  Church,  and  to  have  given  himself  for  it." 
We  hear,  too,  of  the  Church  of  God,  "purchased  with 
his  own  blood;"  and,  before  his  passion,  we  meet 
with  rich  promises  to  the  Church,  which  was  after- 
wards to  be  built.  From  these,  and  many  like  pas- 
sages, we  cannot  doubt  but  that  our  blessed  Lord  de- 
signed to  institute,  and  that  the  holy  Apostles  ac- 
tually did  found,  a  peculiar  establishment,  known  in 
their  days  as  the  Church  ;  a  body  which  is  spoken  of 
every  where  as  a  body  by  itself,  at  unity  with  itself, 
yet  spreading  into  all  nations;  a  body  which  was 
constituted  in  such  a  way,  that  there  was  none  other 
like  it  in  the  wide  world.  In  the  Apostles'  days,  let 
it  be  noted,  there  was  but  one  Church — tlie  Church; 
and  that  Church  not  organized  or  commanded  by 
man,  but  "the  Church  of  the  living  God."  And  it 
is  still  so ;  still  there  can  be  but  o)ie  body  rightfully 
claiming  to  be  the  body  of  Christ,  for  Christ  is  not 
divided.  But  as,  alas !  there  are  multitudes  about  us, 
who  have  departed  from  what  was  always  deemed 
the  Church  of  Christ,  and  who,  nevertheless,  still 
continue  to  claim  a  part  in  the  mystical  body;  it  be- 
comes necessary  to  ascertain  what  the  marks  of  the 
true  Church  of  Christ  are,  that  we  may  know  whe- 


36  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

ther  we  are  indeed  members  of  Him,  through  that 
divine  ordinance  by  which  he  still  publishes  truth, 
and  pours  grace  into  this  false  and  fallen  world. 

The  Church  of  Christ  may  simply  be  defined  to  be, 
that  body  of  faithful  men,  who,  being  baptized,  and 
so  admitted  into  the  Church,  continue  steadfastly  in 
the  Apostles'  doctrine,  and  fellowship,  and  in  hreaking 
of  bread,  and  in  prayers.  These  are  the  marks  by 
which  the  Church  of  Christ  may  be  known.  Every 
body  bearing  these  marks  is  a  true  branch  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  Every  body  not  bearing  these 
marks,  no  matter  how  pious  and  exemplary  the  lives 
of  those  of  whom  it  is  composed,  cannot,  consistently 
with  truth,  be  regarded  as  possessed  of  that  precious 
privilege,  membership  with  Christ  as  a  part  of  his 
body.  The  Church  of  Christ  continues  in  the  Apos- 
tles' doctrine:  that  is,  does  not  merely  believe  the 
writings  of  the  Apostles  extant  to  be  canonical  Scrip- 
tures, or  receive  the  Scriptures  as  the  Word  of  God, 
but  continues  in  that "  faith,  once  "  for  all  "delivered" 
by  the  Apostles  to  the  Church;  that  "form  of  sound 
words  containing  the  great  Catholic  verities,"  which 
was  promulgated,  and  heartily  believed,  long  before 
the  Scriptures  of  the  New  Testament  were  written. 
The  Church  also  continues  in  the  Apostles'  fellowship. 
But  how  can  that  be;  how  can  we  of  the  present 
age,  have  fellowship  with  the  Apostles,  who  have 
long  since  entered  into  their  rest?  Turn  to  the  last 
chapter  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew,  and  peruse 
the  last  commission  which  our  blessed  Lord  gave  to 
his  Apostles,  and  you  will  see  that  in  some  way, 
they,  the  Apostles,  were  to  be  continued  to  the  end 


THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD.  37 

of  the  world ;  for  Christ  having  commanded  them  to 
go,  and  make  disciples  of  all  nations,  by  baptizing 
them  in  the  name  of  the  ever  blessed  Trinity,  adds 
this  comforting  promise,  "Lo  I  am  with  you  alway, 
even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."  So,  then,  the 
Apostles  are  to  be  with  us  to  the  end  of  the  world. 
But  how  ?  Plainly,  by  succession.  You  know,  bre- 
thren, that  many  societies,  founded  hundreds  of  years 
ago,  are  still  said  to  exist  amongst  us,  although  the 
original  members  have  long  since  deceased,  simply 
because,  from  time  to  time,  persons  have  been  ad- 
mitted to  their  fellowship,  by  those  having  the  right 
of  giving  admission,  being  themselves  members ;  and 
the  societies  have  thus  been  perpetuated  to  our  day, 
and  are  said  to  be  still  the  same  society.  Just  so 
with  the  Apostles;  they,  as  we  know,  from  sacred 
history,  elected  and  consecrated  successors,  such  as 
Matthias,  and  Barnabas,  and  Titus,  and  Timothy, 
who  were  to  commit  the  same  trust  to  "faithful  men, 
who  should  be  able  to  teach  others  also."  Which, 
from  the  universal  consent  of  antiquity,  we  know 
that  they  did :  and  thus  the  Apostles  perpetuated  by 
succession  have  come  down  to  us,  and  there  is  still 
among  us  a  body  of  men,  communion  with  whom  is 
necessary  to,  nay,  is  actually  being  in  fellowship  with 
the  Apostles;  a  body  of  men  to  whom  are  strictly 
applicable  those  solemn  words  of  our  Saviour — "He 
that  heareth  you,  heareth  me.'^  The  other  marks  of 
the  true  Church  are  celebrating,  giving  and  receiv- 
ing the  blessed  communion  of  the  body  and  blood  of 
Christ,  and  uniting  constantly  in  i)rayers  offered  up 
by  the  Apostolical  priesthood.  Such  being  the  marks 


38  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

of  the  Church  of  Christ,  it  is  now  proper  to  ask,  what 
is  that  Apostolical  doctrine,  and  that  Apostolical  min- 
istry, the  reception  and  profession  of  which,  are  es- 
sential to  the  being  of  the  Church ;  and  how  may  we 
ascertain  them?  I  answer  those  great  truths  con- 
tained in  the  Apostles'  Creed.  The  Trinity,  the  In- 
carnation, the  Atonement,  the  presence  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  with  the  Church,  which  have  been  professed 
from  the  beginning;  and  Episcopacy,  that  is,  the 
threefold  ministry,  with  the  governing  and  ordaining 
power  in  the  order  of  Bishops,  who  succeed  and  re- 
present the  Apostles.  That  this  doctrine,  that  this 
ministry,  have  ever  been  considered  essentials  of  the 
Church  of  Christ,  we  know  from  all  the  writings  of 
all  the  early  fathers,  from  the  canons  of  all  the  early 
councils,  provincial  and  general,  and  from  all  the 
early  liturgies  which  have  come  down  to  our  time. 
Perhaps  some  of  you  will  regard  this  as  a  very  narrow 
definition  of  the  Church:  but  upon  investigation  you 
will  find  that  the  Church  so  defined  includes  nine- 
teen twentieths  of  those  who  profess  and  call  them- 
selves Christians.  All  other  definitions  either  make 
all  truth  a  matter  of  indifference,  admit  the  power  of 
men  to  make  a  Church,  and  to  constitute,  without 
direct  authority  from  Him,  ambassadors  of  the  Most 
High  God ;  or  else,  exclude  from  Christ's  mystical 
body,  Churches  planted  by  the  Apostles,  and  watered 
by  the  blood  of  the  first  martyrs.  Thus  one  set  of 
men,  look  upon  the  deniers  of  our  Lord's  divinity, 
and  those  who  have  given  up  both  sacraments  and. 
the  Apostolical  ministry,  as  alike  members  of  the 
Church,  with  those  who  pursue  an  entirely  opposite 


THE  CHURCH  OF  THE   LIVING  GOD.  39 

course;  while  another  body,  unheard  of  in  primi- 
tive times,  would  exclude  from  the  Church  all  who 
will  not  adopt  one  particular  mode  of  Baptism,  or 
keep  back  from  the  Saviour,  those  little  children, 
whom  He  especially  invited,  nay,  entreated  to  be 
brought  to  Him :  thus  unchurching  all  the  old  branch- 
es of  the  Catholic  Church ;  and  indeed,  unchurching 
themselves,  and  virtually  destroying  the  Church  of 
Christ.  Since,  if  their  premises  be  true,  the  Church 
long  ago  ceased  to  exist;  and  the  parting  promise  of 
our  blessed  Master  has  not  been  redeemed.  In  op- 
position to  both  these  notions,  Ave  scripturally  define 
the  Church  as  that  body,  catholic  in  time  and  place, 
composed  of  various  national  or  particular  Churches, 
which  retains  the  Apostolical  doctrine,  ministry, 
sacraments  and  prayers.  And  if  any  do  not  like  this 
definition,  or  by  it,  feel  themselves  excluded  from 
the  Church  of  the  living  God,  let  them  remember 
that  the  definition  is  not  human.  We  must  receive 
the  Church  as  we  find  it  established  by  God ;  not  as 
men  would  make  it.  Brethren,  man  did  not  make 
the  Church,  but  the  living  God ;  man  did  not  estab- 
lish the  Apostolical  ministry;  but  He,  who  as  one  hav- 
ing authority,  said  to  his  Apostles,  "as  my  Father 
sent  me,  even  so  send  I  you."  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you 
always,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."  If  any  one 
does  feel,  that,  this  definition  of  the  Church  being  cor- 
rect, he  is  not  a  member  of  it,  he  is  entreated  to  ex- 
amine the  subject  candidly  for  himself,  instead  of 
getting  at  once  into  a  hostile  position;  and  to  ask  the 
many  undertaking  to  preach  the  Gospel  and  to  ad- 
minister the  Holy  Sacrament — where  did  you  get 


40  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

your  authority?  How  do  I  know  that  I  do  receive? 
valid  sacraments  at  your  hands?  In  hearing-  you, 
do  I  indeed  hear  the  Lord ;  or,  am  I  incurring  guilt 
in  attending  to  you,  while  I  am  despising  those 
whom  He  has  actually  sent? 

The  Church  thus  being  defined,  I  wish  to  call  your 
attention  to  a  particular  office  of  the  Church.  I 
have  not  attempted  thus  far  to  define  the  positions  laid 
down;  as  they  have  been  advanced  rather  as  expla- 
nations, and  as  introducing  to  another  branch  of  the 
subject.  Moreover,  the  positions  taken  are  Catholic ; 
and  have  been  abundantly  established,  by  the  labours 
of  the  eloquent,  and  the  learned.  I  wish  you  to  con- 
sider the  universal  Church,  administered  under  an 
external  and  visible  form  of  government,  as  a  pillar 
upon  a  basis,  which  has  supported  and  perpetuated — 
which  upholds  and  continues  to  our  day,  which  will 
support  and  perpetuate  forever — that  system  of  truth, 
and  those  institutions,  which  taken  together,  make 
up  what  we  term  the  Gospel.  Let  us  ascertain  how 
the  Church  is  the  pillar  and  ground  of  the  Truth. 

The  truth  was  first  committed  to  the  Church.  It 
may  be  that  many  imagine  that  the  truth,  was  not 
all  delivered  at  the  first  formation  of  the  Church;  but 
from  time  to  time,  brought  forward,  as  successive 
portions  of  the  New  Testament  were  composed. 
That  this  was  not  the  case,  we  have  the  indirect 
testimony  of  those  very  Scriptures,  which  very  fre- 
quently speak  of  divine  truth  in  such  a  way  as  to  lead 
us  to  the  inevitable  conclusion,  that  long  before  any 
of  those  books  were  written,  the  Church  was  in  full 
and  entire  possession  of  "  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus." 


THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD.  41 

Thus,  Jucle  exhorts  Christians  to  contend  earnestly 
for  "the faith  once"  (for  all)  "delivered  to  the  saints." 
St.  John,  in  his  epistles,  alludes  to  the  great  body  of 
Christian  doctrine,  as  no  new  thing,  but  an  "old  tra- 
dition, which  they  had  had  from  the  beginning,"  and 
charges  the  faithful  to  make  the  apostolic  doctrine  a 
test  of  the  reality  of  pretention  to  spiritual  gifts;  re- 
minding them  that  he  does  not  write  unto  them  be- 
cause they  know  not  the  truth,  but  because  they 
know  it:  just  as  St.  Peter  and  the  other  sacred  wri- 
ters inform  the  persons  whom  they  address,  that  they 
do  not  write  to  reveal  some  new  thing,  but  rather  to 
stir  up  the  pure  minds  of  the  members  of  the  Church, 
by  way  of  remembrance,  and  that  they  might  know 
the  certainty,  that  is,  be  confirmed  in  the  belief  of 
the  certainty,  of  those  things,  wherein  they  had  been 
catechized.  How  plainly  does  St,  Paul,  in  his  epis- 
tles to  Timothy  and  Titus,  speak  of  the  doctrine  as 
a  thing  w^ell  known  and  established,  and  which  had 
been  delivered  to  them  at  their  consecration,  to  pub- 
lish to  the  flocks,  and  to  hand  down  to  coming  time! 
To  this  effect  are  such  injunctions  as  these,  "hold  fast 
the  form  of  sound  words  which  thou  hast  heard  of 
me;"  "that  good  thing  which  was  committed  unto 
thee,  keep  by  the  Holy  Ghost  which  dwelleth  in  us." 
Similar  to  which  is  the  declaration  in  his  Epistle  to 
the  Church  of  Rome;  "ye  have  obeyed  from  the 
heart  that  form  of  doctrine  which  was  delivered  to 
you."  To  confirm  this  application  of  Scripture,  we 
have  the  testimony  of  Ireneeus,  Bishop  of  Lyons,  who 
suffered  martyrdom,  in  A.  D.  202,  who  thus  writes, 

"we  ought  not  to  be  still  seeking  among  others  for 
6 


42  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

the  truth,  which  it  is  easy  to  receive  from  the  Church; 
since  therein  the  Apostles  did  most  abundantly  lodge 
all  things  appertaining  to  the  truth,  so  that  whoso- 
ever will,  may  receive  from  /zer  the  waters  of  life. 
And  what  if  the  Apostles  themselves,  had  left  us  no 
Scriptures?  Ought  we  not  to  follow  the  course  of 
tradition,  such  as  they  delivered  it  to  those  whom 
they  entrusted  with  the  Churches?  Which  rule  is 
followed  by  many  nations  of  the  barbarians ;  those,  I 
mean,  who  believe  in  Christ,  without  paper  or  ink, 
having  salvation  written  in  their  hearts,  by  the 
Spirit,  diligently  keeping  the  old  tradition."  From 
all  which  w^e  gather,  that  the  Church,  on  her  birth- 
day, the  day  of  Pentecost,  was  in  full  possession  of 
Gospel  truth;  that  this  truth,  in  a  form  of  sound 
words,  was  committed  to  all  converts,  and  solemnly 
entrusted  to  the  Bishops,  as  a  deposite  to  be  reverent- 
ly kept  by  them,  and  so  transmitted  through  the 
Church,  to  lost  men,  unto  the  end  of  the  world.  Yet, 
how  different  is  this  plain  scriptural  view  of  the  case, 
from  what  we  are  apt  to  imagine ;  and  how  very  dif- 
ferent is  the  office  of  Holy  Scripture,  from  what  is 
but  too  commonly  thought!  But  what  reasonable 
man  can  suppose  that  our  blessed  Lord  committed 
the  Gospel  to  the  fluctuations  of  popular  opinion,  and 
the  caprices  of  individuals,  rather  than  to  a  well  dis- 
ciplined, divinely  governed  body,  whose  business  it 
should  be  to  hold  the  truth  in  trust,  to  witness  it, 
support  it,  and  publish  it  to  the  nations?  But,  what- 
ever may  be  the  opinion  of  men  of  our  times,  the 
just  testimony  of  Holy  Scripture  and  ancient  authors 
runs  wholly  one  way;  the  Apostles  were  to  make 


THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD.  43 

disciples  of  all  men  teaching  them  the  doctrine  of 
Christ;  divine  orders  were  set  in  the  mystical  body, 
to  bring  all  into  the  unity  of  the  faith  ;  the  Church, 
*'  the  Church  of  the  living  God,"  was  made,  from  the 
very  beginning,  "the  pillar  and  ground  of  the  truth." 
The  Church  is  likewise  the  pillar  and  ground  of 
the  truth,  in  that  she  received  and  examined,  at- 
tested and  preserves  the  Holy  Scriptures.  This  is 
an  exceedingly  important  branch  of  our  subject,  and 
one  of  the  deepest  interest  to  every  Christian.  You 
know  that  after  the  apostolic  age  there  were  circu- 
lated numbers  of  spurious  writings,  purporting  to  be 
the  works  of  the  Apostles  and  Evangelists ;  and  now, 
how  may  we  know  that  we  have  the  true  writings  of 
inspired  men,  or  that  none  of  the  inspired  books  have 
been  excluded  from  the  sacred  book  ?  And  were  it 
not  for  the  Church,  it  would  be  difficult  to  answer 
these  questions  satisfactorily.  True,  there  are  other 
modes  of  proving  the  genuineness  and  authenticity  of 
the  several  portions  of  the  New  Testament :  but  these 
modes  would  be  insufficient,  without  the  Church. 
The  learned  could  indeed  carefully  examine  the  style 
of  the  writer,  and,  mastering  the  internal  evidence, 
in  some  degree  satisfy  himself  But  what  is  the 
unlettered  Christian  to  do?  Is  he  to  receive  the 
Scriptures  as  true  upon  the  reasoning  of  fallible  man, 
which  he  cannot  investigate  for  himself?  How  few 
there  are  who  are  able  properly  to  examine  such  a 
subject.  And  when  we  remember  the  difference  of 
human  opinion,  and  the  fallibility  of  human  judgment, 
we  should  in  some  sort  tremble  for  the  evidences  of 
the  Bible.     But  if  the  witness  of  the  Catholic  Church 


44  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

be  received,  then  we  have  no  farther  difficnlty.  I 
am  then  asked  by  a  private  Christian,  how  do  w^c 
know  that  we  have  the  genuine  books  of  Scripture? 
I  answer,  that  at  the  time  of  the  writing  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, there  was  a  divinely  constituted  body  in  the 
world,  with  whom  the  truth  was  entrusted :  when 
from  time  to  time  these  writings  came  out,  this  body, 
the  Church,  tried  them  by  the  test  of  the  Apostolic 
doctrine  whether  they  were  of  God;  knowing  that 
if  they  contained  any  other  doctrine,  or  any  other 
Gospel,  then  came  they  not  from  men  moved  by  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Then,  having  in  other  ways,  too,  as- 
certained their  genuineness,  the  Church  received 
them  as  canonical  books  tried  and  approved  by  her, 
and  handed  down  her  testimony  to  this  effect  from 
generation  to  generation :  and  so,  because  in  all 
branches  of  the  Church,  in  all  time,  and  by  all  her 
Pastors  and  Laity,  these  books  have  been  received 
as  canonical,  therefore  we  receive  them  as  such. 
Thus,  every  private  Christian  can  say,  when  a  doubt 
is  expressed  as  to  the  genuineness  or  authenticity  of 
any  particular  book,  it  has  always  been  received  by 
the  Church,  and  therefore  I  receive  it  with  unfeigned 
faith,  knowing  that  the  Church  is  the  divine  ordi- 
nance for  the  diffusion  and  perpetuation  of  divine 
truth.  And,  humanly  speaking,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  pillar,  where  would  now  have  been  the  bless- 
ed Bible?  Imperial  rage  would  have  destroyed,  pes- 
tilent heresy  would  have  adulterated,  the  word  of 
God.  But  as  it  is,  how  high  upon  its  firm  founda- 
tion, that  book  has  been  preserved  to  the  world; 
while   round    the    rock-founded  pillar    have  vainly 


THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD.  45 

blazed  the  fires  of  pagan  persecution,  and  bj  it 
for  eighteen  centuries  has  swept  the  ceaseless  tide 
of  time!  It  is,  Christian  brethren,  because  there 
was  a  body  in  the  world,  qualified  and  authorized  to 
try  the  sacred  books  by  a  sure  test;  because  that 
same  body,  by  succession,  being  perpetuated  to  our 
age  has  in  the  same  way  perpetuated  that  testimony, 
that  you  can  go  this  day  to  your  closets;  and,  free 
from  doubt,  and  without  the  tedious  preliminary  of 
a  controversial  investigation,  open  a  book,  which  you 
know  to  be  the  word  of  the  Most  High  God. 

Moreover,  the  Church  is  the  pillar  and  ground  of 
the  truth,  in  that  she  has,  from  the  beginning,  main- 
tained and  promulgated  the  great  truths  of  the  Gos- 
pel. That  is,  the  Apostolical  doctrines,  and  Church 
rules,  which  in  the  first  age  she  received,  she  has 
ever  since  held  and  proclaimed  in  the  creeds  and 
liturgies,  and  in  the  canons  of  general,  national,  and 
provincial  Councils.  Is  this  assertion  denied  ?  Point 
then  to  the  time  when  the  Church  has  ever  denied, 
or  ceased  to  hold  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  the  In- 
carnation, Christ's  sacrifice  for  sin,  the  sanctifying 
gifts  of  the  Spirit,  or  the  sacraments  of  Baptism  and 
the  Holy  Communion,  the  rite  of  Confirmation,  and 
the  threefold  order  in  the  ministry;  all  fundamentals 
of  Catholic  doctrine  and  discipline.  And,  although 
certain  branches  of  the  Catholic  Church  have  added 
to  these  necessary  things  human  notions  and  cor- 
ruptions, yet  in  the  darkest  days  the  Gos[)el  light 
gleamed,  though  too  feebly,  upon  the  altar;  although 
the  court  without  the  temple  was  for  a  long  season  giv- 
en up  to  the  Gentiles,  that  is,  to  men  of  worldly  prin- 


46  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

ciples,  to  be  trodden  under  their  feet,  and,  alas,  is  not 
yet  freed  from  the  pollution,  yet  the  inner  temple, 
and  the  altar,  and  they  that  worship  therein,  were 
measured  by  the  Angel :  and,  when  we  read  of  the 
worldly  priesthood  and  the  unholy  people,  the  irre- 
ligion,  the  superstition,  the  bigotry  which  disgraced 
some  portions  of  the  Church,  we  must  remember 
that  in  those  very  Churches  there  were  hundreds 
and  thousands  who  grew  silently  up  into  Christ;  of- 
fered a  true  spiritual  worship  on  the  guarded  altar 
of  the  mystic  temple;  by  a  holy  life  and  conversa- 
tion, witnessed  Christ's  truth  to  a  most  corrupt  world; 
died  in  the  true  faith  of  the  Gospel ;  and  are  now  in 
the  Paradise  of  God. 

But  we  are  asked,  what  is  the  necessity  of  such  a 
transmission  of  the  fundamentals?  We  have  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  in  and  by  them  alone  the  great  truths  have 
been  handed  down.  Most  unquestionably,  those  great 
matters  of  doctrine  and  discipline  but  just  now  enu- 
merated, may  be  fairly  proved  from  Scripture,  and 
collected  from  them.  But  the  question  is,  whether 
they  would  have  been  so  collected,  proved  and 
thought  out,  unless  they  had  been  previously  given 
to  the  Church,  to  be  transmitted  with  the  Scriptures, 
as  keys  to  the  due  understanding  of  the  same.  Nor 
let  me  be  thought  by  so  saying  to  disparage  Scrip- 
ture, or  to  cast  a  shadow  of  doubt  upon  those  great 
truths.  I  should  not  be  thought  (to  borrow  an  illus- 
tration from  one  who  has  done  much  to  illustrate 
this  branch  of  our  subject)  to  disparage  the  works  of 
God,  or  shake  the  foundation  of  our  faith  in  natural 
religion,  were  T  to  assert  "  that  the  power  and  God- 


THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD.  47 

head  of  the  Creator,  although  unquestionably  prove- 
able  from  the  things  which  are  made,  would  yet  have 
remained  unknown  to  the  mass  of  mankind,  but  for 
primitive  tradition,  or  subsequent  revelation  of  it." 
Nor  let  me  be  thought  to  elevate  human  tradition 
over  the  word  of  God,  for  if  it  can  be  proved  that  the 
great  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  have  been  in  this  way 
handed  down  in  the  Church,  then  we  see  the  hand 
of  God  in  the  Catholic  tradition,  as  much  as  in  the 
Scriptures  themselves;  and  we  no  more  disparage 
the  Bible,  by  asserting  the  necessity  of  the  transmis- 
sion of  fundamentals,  in  and  by  the  Church,  in  or- 
der to  a  due  understanding  of  its  contents,  than  we 
do  by  denying  the  possibility  of  perusing  Scripture 
without  light  of  some  kind.  Tradition  is  a  divine 
light,  by  which  we  are  to  read  and  study  the  word  of 
God. 

Whether  it  would  have  been  possible  for  us  to  have 
collected  the  great  truths  from  the  Scripture,  without 
the  witness  of  the  Church  as  to  what  was  the  apos- 
tolical doctrine  and  discipline,  is  a  question  which 
we  never  can  decide ;  any  more  than  we  can  decide 
whether,  without  revelation  transmitted  from  the  be- 
ginning, or  afterwards  made,  men  could  have  found 
out  from  the  visible  creation,  the  power  and  Godhead 
of  the  Creator.  And  for  the  same  reason :  namely, 
that  neither  the  Church  nor  the  mass  of  mankind 
were  ever  left  to  make  such  collection  of  truth  from 
their  own  observation.  We  have  abundantly  proved 
in  another  part  of  this  discourse,  that  the  New  Tes- 
tament Scriptures  themselves  speak  of  the  truth  as 
something  which  was  perfectly  known  to  the  Church 


43  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

from  the  beginning,  and  so  of  course  before  they 
were  written.  Indeed,  it  should  seem  that  the  Scrip- 
tures were  not  so  much  given  to  reveal  the  truth,  as 
to  preserve  it.  The  Scriptures  preserve  the  faith 
once  delivered  to  the  Church,  free  from  corruption ; 
and  the  faith  handed  down  in  the  Church,  throws  a 
steady  light  on  the  written  word  by  which  it  may  be 
understood.  And  it  should  seem  that  it  is  in  this 
way  that  the  Church  has  ever  used  the  Scriptures. 
You  know  that  in  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  cen- 
tury, the  famous  Arian  heresy  made  its  assault  upon 
the  faith;  whereupon  in  the  year  325  the  first  ge- 
neral council  was  assembled  at  Nice,  to  decide  the 
controversy.  And  how  was  this  done  ?  By  doing  as 
many  do  in  our  day,  taking  texts  of  Scripture  and 
disputing  about  them  ?  No ;  but  the  assembled  Bi- 
shops delivered  a  creed  containing  the  doctrine  which 
had  been  handed  down  from  the  Apostles  in  their 
respective  sees ;  which  doctrine  they  then  proceeded 
to  prove,  confirm,  and  illustrate,  from  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures. And  this  is  the  true  way  in  which  to  deal 
with  heresies  and  opposers  of  God's  truth.  Not  to 
take  the  Bible  by  itself,  as  if  we  had  no  other  aid  or 
help ;  but  to  take  the  Faith  and  Discipline  as  handed 
down  in  the  Church,  and  confirm  them  from  the 
Bible.  Thus,  some  oppose  infant  Baptism;  we  know 
that  infant  Baptism  has  always  prevailed  in  the  Ca- 
tholic Church,  and  this  discipline  of  the  Church  we 
can  clearly  confirm  from  Scripture.  But  if  we  knew 
nothing  of  the  custom  of  the  Churches  of  God,  we 
might  be  unable  to  prove  that  it  was  commanded, 
although  our  adversaries  would  be  somewhat  puzzled 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD.  49 

to  prove  that  it  was  forbidden.  Just  so  with  the  ob- 
servance of  the  Lord's  day !  Who  can  prove  from 
Scripture  that  it  is  now  our  duty  to  observe  the 
first,  instead  of  the  seventh  day,  as  tiie  day  of  rest  ? 
But  we  know  that  from  the  beo-innino;  it  was  so  or- 
dered  in  the  Churcii;  and,  previously  possessing  this 
fact,  we  find  something  at  least  to  confirm  it  in  Scrip- 
ture. Indeed,  it  seems  strange  that  the  Scriptures 
should  have  been  used,  as  they  have,  when  we  con- 
sider their  nature.  I  refer,  of  course,  particularly  to 
the  New  Testament  Scriptures.  They  nowhere 
contain  formal  declarations  of  the  whole  truth.  In 
many  books  all-important  truths  are  only  incidentally 
alluded  to,  as  if  the  writer  took  it  for  granted  that 
the  persons  whom  he  was  addressing,  were  perfectly 
familiar  with  the  subjects  of  his  hasty  allusions.  In 
some  books,  certain  important  truths  are  not  noticed 
at  all ;  and  it  should  seem  impossible,  that  the  Church, 
much  more  individual  Christians,  could  have  collected 
the  fundamentals  necessary,  for  instance,  to  be  re- 
ceived in  order  to  Baptism,  without  first  having 
obtained  them  from  some  other  source.  At  any  rate, 
God  has  plairdy  manifested  His  will  as  to  the  way  in 
which  we  are  to  get  at  truth,  in  that  He  has  instituted 
a  body  which  is  its  pillar  and  ground ;  and  which  was 
set  up,  and  on  which  the  truth  was  founded,  before 
the  Scriptures  were  given.  I  trust  that  we  now 
fully  understand  in  what  manner  the  Church  is  "the 
pillar  and  ground  of  the  truth."  To  recapitulate — the 
Church,  established  to  receive  and  perpetuate  the 
truth,  at  the  first  received  it,  and  has  ever  since  held 
and  transmitted  it  for  the  benefit  of  man.     She  also 

7 


60  THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD. 

proved  and  received  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  still 
attests  their  truth,  and  illustrates  their  meaning  by  a 
transmission  of  the  Faith  once  dehvered  to  her 
charge.  The  successive  generations  of  her  Pastors 
have  not  been  set  to  invent  or  improve,  but  to  trans- 
mit: not  to  kindle  strange  fires  upon  the  altar,  but 
to  pass  from  hand  to  hand  that  true  light,  which 
came  from  heaven;  which  shone  brighter  than  the 
persecuting  fires  of  imperial  Rome ;  which  expired 
not  in  the  murky  night  of  the  dark  ages,  but  showed 
to  many  a  wandering  foot  the  pathway  to  the  Cross ; 
which  has  gleamed  upon  all  the  fading  races  of  men ; 
which  will  shine  with  increasing  lustre  unto  the 
dawning  of  the  endless  Day — that  blessed  light  of 
God's  truth,  which  endureth  "from  generation  to 
generation." 

It  may  be  thought,  Christian  Brethren,  that  too  ex- 
alted things  have  been  spoken  of  the  Church;  but 
it  is  only  as  she  is  the  city  of  God.  Remember  that 
as  the  Bible  is  of  God,  so  is  the  Church  of  God. 
True,  her  members  and  ministers  are  men :  so  also, 
men  wrote  the  Holy  Scriptures.  True,  they  w^ere 
moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost :  and  so  we  are  all  baptized 
into  the  Church,  and  the  Bishops  and  Pastors  are  set 
over  the  flock,  by  that  same  blessed  Spirit.  With 
the  Church,  Christ  has  ever  promised  to  be  present; 
with  her  the  Comforter  is  to  abide  for  ever;  against 
her  the  gates  of  Hell  shall  never  prevail.  She  is  the 
fulness  of  Christ,  and  the  body  of  Christ.  And  it  is 
only  because  she  has  such  promises,  privileges  and 
gifts,  that  she  is  the  pillar  and  ground  of  the  truth. 
If  we  thought  of  this  subject  as  we  ought  to  do,  we 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD.  51 

should  no  more  fear  over-estimating  the  Church,  than 
we  should  fear  to  set  too  high  a  value  upon  the  Scrip- 
tures themselves.  Is  it  possible  to  set  lightly  by  the 
body,  and  yet  to  value  duly  the  head?  No  more  can 
we  despise  or  set  lightly  by  the  Church,  which  is 
Christ's  body,  and  still  duly  love  and  reverence  Him 
who  is  her  omnipotent  Head. 

I  trust  that  as  we  have  advanced  in  our  stirrino- 
theme,  you  have  each  perceived  that  you  have  a  per- 
sonal spiritual  interest  in  it.  How  are  we  to  be 
made  free,  but  by  the  truth?  And  where  may  we 
seek  the  truth,  but  upon  its  pillar  and  ground?  Do 
you  love,  do  you  earnestly  desire  to  know,  the  truth 
as  it  is  in  Christ?  What  should  you  or  I  do,  this 
day,  if  we  had  not  the  blessed  Church  of  God,  to 
guide  us  to  the  truth  ?  You  have  not  the  lime,  nor 
have  any  of  us  the  qualifications,  necessary  to  enable 
us  to  sit  down  to  the  Scriptures,  and  collect  the  sys- 
tem of  truth  there  involved.  And  if  there  were  no 
Church,  if  we  simply  met  together  as  a  company  of 
religious  people,  you  would  either  have  to  take  my 
word  as  to  what  were  the  fundamental  truths  of  the 
Bible,  and  rely  upon  a  fallible  mortal  for  the  integri- 
ty of  the  faith ;  or  else  you  would  go  to  your  homes, 
perplexed  and  distressed  with  doubts,  hopelessly  ask- 
ing, What  is  truth?  Nay  more,  when  the  blessed 
word  of  God  was  read,  if  read  at  all,  we  should  be 
distressed  with  doubts  as  to  w^hether  or  not  we  were 
reading  canonical  Scripture.  And  further,  you  have 
children,  whom  you  desire  to  bring  up  for  God,  to 
whom  you  desire  to  read  the  truth.  And  if  there 
were  no  Church,  what  would  you  do?  Either  de- 
pend upon  your  own  judgment  as  to  what  is  truth, 


52  THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD. 

and  as  to  what  truths  you  would  teach  them ;  or  else 
put  that  blessed  book  into  their  hands,  telling  them 
it  is  the  word  of  God,  and  they  must  gather  from  it 
what  they  can.  But  thanks  to  Almighty  God,  it  is 
not  so.  We  have  "the  faith  once  delivered  to  the 
saints,"  and  in  our  Master's  name,  we  gather  here  to 
attest  that  which  we  receive,  not  as  our  private  opin- 
ions, but  as  the  teaching  of  God  through  his  Church. 
You  leach  this  same  faith  to  your  children  upon  the 
same  authority;  and  we  all,  young  and  old,  as  did  the 
noble  Bereans,  v/hen  listening  to  the  instructions  of  an 
inspired  Apostle,  while  we  receive  the  word  upon 
such  authority,  with  all  readiness  of  mind;  may,  and 
ought  to  search  the  Scriptures  daily,  not  to  make 
new  systems  for  ourselves,  but  to  see  "  whether  these 
things  are  so:"  that  is,  to  prove,  illustrate,  and  con- 
firm that  form  of  doctrine  vv^hich  was  delivered  us. 
And  now,  have  you  not  a  personal,  spiritual  interest 
in  the  Church  of  the  living  God,  as  the  pillar  and 
ground  of  the  truth?  Does  it  not  interest  you  to 
know  whether  the  Saviour  to  whom  you  commit 
your  immortal  souls,  is  human  or  divine?  Whether 
you  may  bring  little  ones  to  the  Saviour  to  be  made 
members  of  Him?  Whether  you  are  breaking  God's 
law  in  keeping  holy  the  first  instead  of  the  seventh 
day.  But  yet,  upon  the  testimony  of  the  Church,  all 
certain  knowledge  of  these  things  depends.  And 
here,  it  will  be  well  to  ask,  whether  we  are  not  too 
much  disposed  to  measure  the  importance  of  God's 
plans  by  their  apparent  reference  to  ourselves?  Thus, 
for  instance,  some  will  say,  this  matter  of  the  Church 
is  of  no  such  importance  as  you  represent  it;  what 
has  it  to  do  with  my  growth  in  grace?     Although 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    LIVING    GOD.  53 

such  a  statement  is  anything  but  true,  yet  it  might 
be  as  well  to  remind  such  an  one,  that  the  saving  of 
his  soul  is  not  the  only  purpose  which  God  had  in 
founding  the  Church.  His  ways  are  above  our  ways ; 
and  while  in  love  and  mercy  they  have  a  reference 
to  us,  it  would  be  modest  in  us  to  remember  that 
they  may  have  a  reference  to  beings  far  higher  than 
we.  Thus  the  Church  is  the  ark  of  salvation;  and 
also  by  it  is  "made  known  unto  the  principalities 
and  powers  in  heavenly  places,  the  manifold  wisdom 
of  God." 

Brethren,  such  is  the  Church  of  the  living-  God: 
the  pillar  and  ground  of  the  truth,  to  you  and  to 
all  Christians.  Love  the  Church.  Reverence  the 
Church.  Seek  on  the  pillar  the  truth;  for  there 
only  it  may  certainly  be  found.  And  no  more  wan- 
der from  the  Church  to  a  strange  fold,  than  the  little 
child  should  leave  the  breast  of  its  own  mother,  for 
the  uncertain  arms  of  a  stranger.  And  if  you  would 
show  your  love  and  gratitude  to  the  Church,  lead  a 
holy  life ;  hold  the  truth  w^hich  she  has  given  you  in 
righteousness;  and  do  all  that  in  you  lies  to  spread  it  to 
others,  and  to  transmit  it  to  the  generations  that  come 
after.  So  shall  you  best  perform  the  will  of  our  dear 
Saviour,  "who  loved  the  Church  and  gave  Himself 
for  it;  that  He  might  sanctify  and  cleanse  it  with 
the  washing  of  water  by  the  word,  that  He  might 
present  it  unto  Himself  a  glorious  Church ;  not  hav- 
ing spot,  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing;  but  that  it 
should  be  holy  and  without  blemish." 

And  to  that  blessed  Saviour,  who  with  the  Father 
and  the  Holy  Ghost,  &c.  &.c. 


m: 


SERMON  IV. 


THE  NECESSITY  OF  FAITH. 

But  without  faith  it  is  impossible  to  please  Him. 

Hebrews,  ii.  6. 

The  eloquent  chapter,  from  which  these  words  are 
taken,  is  a  glowing  commendation  of  faith ;  opening 
with  a  clear  and  concise  definition  of  this  cardinal 
principle  of  all  true  religion,  in  which,  however,  the 
effects,  rather  than  the  essence  of  faith  is  described. 
The  Apostle  runs  through  the  long  catalogue  of  the 
elder  worthies,  and  rehearses  the  mighty  works  which 
they  wrought,  the  bitter  sufferings  which  they  en- 
dured, the  gracious  helps  which  they  received,  the 
glorious  promises  which  they  embraced  through  the 
all-prevailing  power  of  faith ;  and  in  the  body  of  his 
discourse  he  recommends  faith  to  our  notice,  as  the 
first  and  most  necessary  principle  of  religion — that 
principle  without  which  there  can  be  no  true  religion. 
It  is  to  this  one  point  that  your  attention  is  at  pre- 
sent requested.  I  wdsh  to  show  why  it  is  that  "  it 
is  impossible  to  please"  God  "  without  faith."  Be- 
cause many  men,  instead  of  thanking  God  for  the 
simplicity  of  the  first  principle  of  the  doctrine  of 
Christ,  are  very  apt  to  regard  faith  as  a  very  difficult 
matter ;  and  think  it  a  very  hard  thing  in  our  hea- 
venly Father  to  require  that  which,  as  they  say, 
many  persons  cannot  have,  because  it  is  impossible 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    FAITH.  55 

to  believe  unless  the  understanding  assents  to  the 
truth  of  those  things  proposed  for  belief:  and  some 
men's  understandings  cannot  assent  to  the  truth  of 
those  thintrs  which  God  offers  to  us  as  articles  of 
faith.  In  short,  they  talk  about  faith  as  if  it  were  an 
arbitrary  condition  upon  which,  rather  than  the  ne- 
cessary mean  by  which,  we  attain  unto  the  favour  of 
God.  Not  so  the  Apostle  Saint  Paul.  He  speaks 
of  faith  as  something  necessary,  from  the  established 
course  of  things,  in  order  to  our  pleasing  our  Maker; 
so  that  a  man  can  no  more  recover  his  spiritual  health 
without  faith,  which  is  the  only  way  of  receiving 
spiritual  medicine,  than  the  sick  man  can  recover  his 
bodily  health,  who  is  incapacitated  to  receive  those 
remedies  without  which  no  cure  can  be  effected. 
Let  it  be  noted,  that  the  faith  spoken  of  in  the  text  is 
not  any  specific  act,  such  as  heartily  relying  on  the 
Blood  of  our  blessed  Lord  as  an  expiation  for  our 
sins;  but  rather  that  habit  of  the  soul  of  which  faith 
in  Christ  is  only  one  particular  act  or  manifestation  : 
that  principle,  moral  rather  than  mental,  which  bows 
down  the  whole  man  to  God,  a  hearty  and  cordial 
persuasion  of  the  truth  of  all  God's  revelations.  It 
is  not,  as  a  fine  old  writer  observes,  "a  mere  believ- 
ing of  historical  things,  and  upon  artificial  arguments, 
or'testimonies  only;  but  a  certain  higher  and  diviner 
power  in  the  soul,  that  peculiarly  correspondeth 
with,  that  aspires  to,  desires,  and  receives,  the 
Deity."  Such  is  faith.  We  are  now  to  consider  its 
necessity  to  the  pleasing  of  God. 

St.   Paul  himself  has  given  us  in  the  context  a 
plain  and  excellent  reason  for  the  necessity  of  faith ; 


56  THE    NECESSITY    OF    FAITH. 

"for,"  as  he  tells  us,  "he  that  cometh  to  God  must 
believe  that  he  is,  and  that  he  is  the  rewarder  of 
them  that  diligently  seek  him,."  Now  it  is  perfectly 
plain  to  every  man,  that  no  one  will  or  can  seek  to 
please  God  unless  he  is  truly  persuaded  of  his  exist- 
ence ;  and  that  unless  he  believes  that  God  is  a  moral 
Governor,  discerning  between  right  and  wrong,  ap- 
proving the  former  and  condemning  and  disallowing 
the  latter,  having  respect  to  those  who  diligently  seek 
him,  being  ready  to  be  found  of  those  that  seek  him, 
and  rewarding  the  search,  he  will  make  no  effort 
whatever  to  gain  that  loving  kindness  and  favour 
which  are  far  better  than  life.  Faith  then  is  neces- 
sary, because  God  is  invisible.  In  order  to  please 
God  we  must  love  Him;  in  order  to  love  Him  we 
must  know  him;  in  order  to  know  Him  we  must 
exercise  faith ;  because,  as  he  is  invisible,  and  can- 
not be  taken  cognizance  of  by  the  senses,  faith  is 
evidently  the  only  way  left,  in  which  we  can  so 
know  and  love  Him  as  to  obtain  His  favour.  Faith 
is  the  demonstration  or  firm  persuasion  of  things  not 
seen;  it  is  a  principle  that  brings  a  man  into  the 
presence  of  God,  and  into  actual  contact,  so  to  speak, 
with  spiritual  things,  so  that  he  realizes  Him  and 
them  as  a  being,  and  as  things,  having  an  actual 
existence.  Thus  Moses  is  said  to  have  "endured, 
as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible."  Faith  was  to  him, 
as  it  is  to  every  religious  man,  in  the  place  of  eyes : 
and  when  he  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  stern  and 
tyrannical  Pharaoh,  he  realized  that  a  greater  than 
Pharaoh  was  before  him,  even  the  King  of  Kings  and 
Lord  of  Lords;  and  so  both  the  wrath  and  the  favour 


I 


*^- 


THE    NECESSITV    OF    FAITH.  67 

of  the  earthly  monarch  were  forgotten  in  the  sense 
of  the  terror  of  the  wrath,  and  the  blessedness  of  the 
favour,  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  If  Moses  had  not  been 
a  man  of  faith,  he  would  have  been  seduced  from  his 
duty  by  hope  of  the  honours,  or  through  fear  of  the 
punishments,  which  it  was  in  the  power  of  the  Egyp- 
tion  to  confer  or  inflict.  The  necessity  of  faith, 
viewed  under  this  aspect,  may  be  thus  familiarly 
illustrated.  There  is  a  child  living  among  strangers, 
and  he  is  told,  that  in  a  foreign  and  far  off  land,  he 
has  a  father  from  whom  he  is  constantly  receiving 
marks  of  love  and  kindness,  accompanied  by  express 
statements  of  his  wishes  and  views,  with  regard  to  his 
son's  conduct.  Now,  if  that  son  is  heartily  per- 
suaded that  his  father  is  living  in  this  foreign  land, 
and  if  the  tokens  of  his  father's  affectionate  remem- 
brance and  anxiety  for  his  welfare  excite  a  corres- 
ponding affection  in  his  breast,  he  will  of  course 
endeavour  to  please  him,  by  conforming  to  all  his 
wishes;  and  he  will  always  conduct  himself  as  if  in 
his  father's  presence;  as  seeing  him  who  is  neverthe- 
less far  out  of  his  sis^ht.  So  in  a  certain  sense  that 
son  may  be  said  to  exercise  faith.  And  you  can  all 
see  readily  that  if  he  did  not  heartily  believe  that  his 
father  was  living,  and  had  conceived  no  manner  of 
affection  for  him,  he  would  not  endeavor  to  please 
him.  Now,  is  there  not  a  striking  anology  between 
the  supposed  case  of  the  father  and  son,  and  that  of 
God  and  mankind?  We  are  children,  living  away 
from  our  Heavenly  Father;  who  has,  however,  sur- 
rounded us  with  countless  evidences  of  his  lively- 
interest  in  our  welfare,  and  His  intense  love  for  our- 


58  THE    NECESSITY    OF    FAITH. 

selves.  He  has  moreover  expressed  clearly  His 
Welshes,  as  to  the  course  of  conduct  to  be  pursued  by 
us,  during  our  separation  from  Him.  But  if  we  are 
not  heartily  persuaded  that  we  have  such  a  father  in 
heaven,  of  course  v^e  cannot  love  him,  and  shall  not, 
from  the  very  nature  of  things,  take  any  pains  to 
please  Him.  Now,  this  is  the  whole  mystery  of  the 
necessity  of  faith ;  and  any  child  may  see  that  it  is 
as  "impossible  to  please"  God  '*  without  faitli,"  as 
it  is  to  fly  without  wings,  or  to  see  without  the  organs 
of  sight. 

Thus  much  generally.  It  will  now  be  necessary 
to  examine  this  subject  more  closely,  to  show  in  cer- 
tain particulars  how  necessary  is  faith  in  order  to 
please  God.  Being  by  nature  sinful,  and  by  mani- 
fold actual  transgressions  sinners;  we  must,  if^we 
would  please  God,  be  brought  into  such  a  state  of 
reconciliation,  and  receive  such  a  renovation  of  our 
corrupt  nature,  that  He  who  cannot  look  upon  ini- 
quity without  indignation,  and  who  cannot  pass  by 
those  sins,  against  which  he  has  denounced  such 
dreadful  judgments,  may  accept  us  and  receive  us  to 
Himself  as  pardoned  and  purified  beings.  To  effect 
this  change,  He  has  in  His  wisdom  appointed  certain 
means,  which  it  is  impossible  to  use  without  faith. 
Not  that  faith  gives  the  means  their  efficacy,  but  the 
power  of  God;  faith  being  only  that  by  which  those 
means  are  made  available  by  us. 

Our  blessed  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  by 
His  death  on  the  Cross,  has  made  an  expiation  for 
the  sins  of  every  child  of  Adam.  But  that  expiation 
is  only  efficacious  to  those,  who,  havinor  a  livino-  faith 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    FAITH.  59^ 

in  its  power  to  salvation,  come  to  God  through 
Clirist,  earnestly  seeking,  and  heartily  desiring  par- 
don and  purity,  and  their  necessary  consequent,  that 
sweet  peace,  which  passeth  all  understanding.  When 
the  Israelites,  in  the  wilderness,  were  bitten  by  the 
fiery  serpents,  Moses  by  the  command  of  God  set  up 
a  brazen  serpent;  upon  which,  whosoever,  stung  by 
these  venomous  reptiles,  should  look,  he  would  be 
saved  from  an  otherwise  inevitable  death.  But  if 
those  who  had  no  faith  in  the  remedy  refused  to  look 
and  be  healed,  of  course  they  could  not  escape  from 
their  doom.  For  the  same  reason  it  is,  that  so  many 
are  not  washed  from  their  sins  in  the  fountain  open 
"  for  sin  and  uncleanness."  The  blood  which  stained 
the  awful  Cross  is  sufficient  to  cleanse  all  the  stains 
of  sin  from  every  human  being,  and  to  make  this 
fallen  race  a  blessed  family  around  the  throne  of  God. 
But  there  are  thousands  who  want  faith  in  its  effi- 
cacy ;  and,  in  reach  of  such  a  merciful  remedy^  they 
die  in  their  sins. 

God  has  instituted  two  sacraments  as  channels  of 
His  grace.  To  the  carnal  eye,  the  water  that  sparkles 
in  the  laver  of  regeneration  is  but  water ;  and  the 
bread  and  wine  upon  the  Holy  Altar  are  but  bread 
and  wine.  But  faith  enables  us  to  see  in  the  one 
sacrament  that  blood  shed  for  the  remission  of  sins^ 
and  that  Spirit  which  implants  in  the  new  born  soul 
the  germ  or  seminal  principle  of  all  holy  disposition^ 
and  righteous  habits ;  and,  in  the  other,  that  blessed 
Body  and  Blood  of  our  Redeemer,  not  only  broken 
and  poured  out  for  our  sins,  but  also  given  for  the 
spiritual  life  of  the  world,  for  the  strengthening  and 


60  THE    NECESSITY    OF    FAITH. 

refreshing  of  the  inner  man.  And  why  is  it  that 
there  are  some  who  still  gather  to  this  consecrated 
house  of  God — some,  alas !  in  the  bustle  and  stir  of 
middle  life,  fast  hastening  on  to  the  evil  days,  when, 
without  Christ,  they  shall  say,  I  have  no  pleasure  in 
them — who  have  never  been  born  anew  of  water  and 
the  Holy  Ghost,  being  baptized  in  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ,  for  the  remission  of  sins?  Why  is  it,  that, 
when,  the  sermon  ended,  the  priest  draws  near  to  the 
Holy  Table,  and  in  God's  behalf  bids  you  all  ap- 
proach, to  take  that  holy  sacrament  to  your  comfort, 
those  doors  are  darkened  by  a  retiring  throng,  who 
go  away  from  their  Lord,  as  if  they  were  not  ad- 
dressed in  those  most  touching  words,  "  This  do  in 
remembrance  of  me?"  Is  it  not  dear  brethren,  be- 
cause you  want  faith  in  those  simple  means?  Do 
you  not  ask  with  the  Syrian  Leper,  "are  not  Abana 
and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than  all  the 
waters  of  Israel?  May  I  not  wash  in  them,  and  be 
clean?"  Are  not  my  inward  Baptism  and  inward 
Communion  all  that  are  necessary  to  please  God?  So 
it  is  for  the  want  of  faith,  that  the  sacraments  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  are  so  generally  neglected.  And 
let  it  be  carefully  noted,  that  though  in  a  certain 
sense,  they  are  ways  of  pleasing  God,  yet  they  are 
ineffectual,  except  to  the  faithful.  Let  him  who 
would  use  them  aright,  "draw  near  with  faiths 
.  Prayer  is  the  appointed  way  in  which  to  draw  near 
to  God,  to  make  known  our  wants  to  Him,  to  ask 
whatever  we  need  for  the  well  being  of  body  or  soul. 
But  how  many  there  are  who  go  through  the  busi- 
ness and  pleasure  of  each  returning  day,  and  never 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    FAITH.  61 

bend  their  knee  to  the  almighty  God,  or  put  up 
one  single  petition,  or  return  one  strain  of  praise,  for 
the  many  blessings  which  that  good  God,  unasked 
and  unthanked,  has  showered  upon  them!  How 
many  more  there  are  who,  from  habit,  go  through  the 
daily  form  of  "saying  their  prayers,"  who  arise 
gladly  from  their  knees,  rejoiced  to  be  through  with 
a  weary  and  unprolitable  exercise,  and  then  go  abroad 
into  a  world  of  temptation  and  sorrow,  unstrength- 
ened  and  unrefreshed !  A  want  of  faith  keeps  one 
class  of  men  from  the  closet  and  the  Church,  and 
renders  those  places  of  resort,  so  delightful  to  the 
true  child  of  God,  irksome  and  unproductive  of  good 
to  the  other.  Without  the  use,  ordinarily,  of  the 
appointed  outward  means,  we  "cannot  please  God." 
But  we  shall  not  use  those  means  at  all,  or  we  shall 
not  use  them  rightly  and  effectually,  "  without 
faith."  So  then,  in  any  way,  "without  faith,  it  is 
impossible  to  please"  God. 

God  cannot  be  pleased  w^ith  anything  opposed  to 
the  holiness  of  His  nature  ;  and  though  He  imputes 
not  sin  to  those  who  seek  for  pardon  through  the 
blood  of  Christ,  yet  there  must  also  be  a  reconciling 
of  rebellious  wills  and  carnal  desires  to  truth  and  pu- 
rity and  goodness,  before  God  can  look  upon  the  sin- 
ner with  complacency  :  since  His  judgment  and  esti- 
mation of  every  thing  is  according  to  the  truth  of  the 
thing,  and  as  anything  is  suited  or  not  to  his  judg- 
ment, so  He  accepts  or  disallows  it.  Now  "  without 
faith  it  is  impossible"  for  such  a  change  to  take  place 
in  the  soul.  For,  by  faith  alone,  as  we  have  before 
seen,  can  we  rightly  use  prayer  and  the  other  means 


62  THE    NECESSITY    OF    FAITH. 

of  drawing  down  spiritual  influences.  Moreover, 
faith  is  the  initial  or  seminal  principle  of  all  other 
graces,  and  the  foundation  of  hope  and  charity.  It 
is  the  beginning  of  repentance ;  for  why  does  a  man 
repent,  but  because  he  is  heartily  persuaded  that  the 
Lord  is  a  just  God,  who  will  not  endure  iniquity,  and 
so  flees  to  Him,  from  that  fear  which  is  the  beginning 
of  wisdom  ?  Or  else,  cordially  believes  that  His 
heavenly  Father  has  mercifully  and  patiently  borne 
with  his  long  wilfulness ;  has  entreated  him  by  the 
dispensations  of  His  Providence,  and  the  voice  of  the 
Spirit  to  come  and  be  saved;  has  set  up  the  Cross,  a 
hope  to  the  hopeless,  a  token  of  unspeakable  love;  and 
so,  melted  with  love,  at  last  yields  up  his  heart  to 
the  Lord,  who  has  so  graciously  sought  it?  Faith 
begets  true  love  and  gratitude  in  the  soul;  and  con- 
stantly increases  their  strength  and  fervour.  St. 
John  states  that  love  to  God  arises  in  the  soul,  in 
answer,  as  it  were,  to  that  love  which  the  soul  dis- 
covers has  been  eternally  poured  out  upon  it:  "we 
love  Him,  because  He  first  loved  us."  And  this 
through  faith :  for  by  faith  we  realize  the  love  of  God 
to  us  from  the  beginning ;  yea,  that  greatest  love  of 
all  which  was  manifested  at  Calvary.  By  faith  too, 
we  see  the  hand  of  God  in  all  the  events  of  life ; 
which  worldly  men  regard  as,  or,  at  any  rate,  talk 
about  too  much  as,  if  they  were  actually  depending 
upon  "chance."  Thus  heartily  believing  that  God 
formed  and  preserved  us ;  so  loved  us  that  He  sent 
His  only  begotten  Son  to  die  for  our  sins;  gives  all 
that  we  have,  takes  all  that  we  lose,  to  draw  us  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  only  Fountain  of  bliss,  a  divine 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    FAITH.  63 

affection  springs  up  in  the  soul.     Faith  in  God's  love 
to  us  begets  in  us  a  true  love  to  God. 

It  is  impossible  to  please  God,  unless  our  affections 
are  set  supremely  on  Him  :  but  with  most  men  the 
things  seen  and  temporal  have  far  more  weight  and 
importance,  are  far  wore  attractive  and  interesting 
than  things  unseen  and  eternal ;  and  so  they  are 
lovers  of  themselves,  of  pleasure,  of  all  that  is  in  the 
world,  rather  than  of  God.  Hence  the  necessity  of 
faith,  to  bring  things  spiritual  so  near  to  man  that  he 
may  realize  them,  and  feel  their  infinite,  their  eternal, 
and  their  immediate  importance.  Why  is  it  that  man 
puts  off  the  one  thing  needful  to  some  more  conve- 
nient season,  that  he  may  attend  to  some  matter  of 
business  or  pleasure  ?  Is  it  not  because  he  realizes 
the  practical  bearing  of  the  affairs  of  business  or 
pleasure  upon  his  present  well  being  and  happiness  ; 
while  with  regard  to  religion,  he  has  no  faith :  he 
does  not  perceive  that  it  is  now  necessary  to  his  hap- 
piness, to  be  pardoned,  and  to  be  cleansed  from  sin. 
We  often  hear  young  persons  say,  when  asked  to 
make  the  salvation  of  ther  souls  the  first  great  busi- 
ness of  life,  "What,  give  up  the  pleasures  of  the  world, 
for  religion?"  Ah,  what  a  want  of  faith  is  discernible 
in  such  an  answer !  They  have  faith  in  the  pleasures 
of  the  world,  poor  transitory  things  though  they  be; 
but  they  have  no  faith  in  God.  They  do  not  heartily 
believe  that  He  will  repay  them,  even  in  this  life,  an 
hundred  fold  for  every  sacrifice  made  for  His  sake. 
They  have  faith  that  the  dance,  the  revel,  the  adula- 
tion and  love  of  earthly  friends,  the  decoration  of 
person,  the  pomp  and  pageantry  of  earthly  shows,  will 


64  THE    NECESSITY    OF    FAITH. 

give  them  pleasure :  but  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
will  give  his  friends  a  peace  that  "  passeth  all  under- 
standing," a  joy  that  "no  man  taketh"  from  them; 
that  in  God's  presence  there  is  "fulness  of  joy;"  that 
at  his  right  hand  are  "pleasures  for  evermore;"  that 
He  will  one  day  make  his  saints  drink  of  the  river  of 
His  pleasure,  they  do  not  at  all  believe.  Now  this 
intense  apprehension,  and  inordinate  love  of  the  things 
of  time  and  sense,  faith  alone  can  correct.  No  one 
can  doubt  that  if  God  and  the  pleasures  of  sin,  heaven 
and  the  world,  were  not  once  or  twice,  but  liabitually 
compared  together,  reasonable  and  reasoning  beings 
would  gladly  fix  their  affections  and  hopes  on  God. 
And  this  is  precisely  what  the  habit  of  faith  does. 
When  dazzled  by  the  glare  of  the  pleasures  and 
honours  of  the  world,  it  sets  side  by  side  with  them, 
a  vision  of  a  worm  that  never  dieth,  of  a  flame  that  is 
not  quenched ;  and  we  are  startled  from  our  intoxi- 
cating dreams.  When  the  paths  of  life  are  over- 
shadowed, and  we  find  that  it  begins  to  be  hard  and 
irksome  to  travel  on  the  straight  and  narrow  path  of 
duty;  faith  shows  us  a  fadeless  crown,  a  glorified 
body,  a  land  of  peace  and  purity  and  bliss,  and 
brighter  light  gleams  on  all  our  ways,  and  we  hasten 
on  a  self  denying  course  with  renewed  strength  and 
cheerfulness. 

Thus  much  for  the  necessity  of  faith ;  and  though 
the  subject  has  been  viewed  but  in  a  single  aspect,  it 
is  trusted  that  enough  has  been  said  to  show  the  rea- 
sonableness of  demanding  such  a  qualification  in  or- 
der to  our  being  accepted  of  God.  For  faith  is  the 
first  pulse  of  the  divine  life  in  the  soul ;  by  it  we  are 


THE    NECESSITY   OF    FAITH.  65 

made  just,  by  it  the  just  live,  and  by  it  they  walk  with 
God.  It  is  the  connecting  link  of  the  chain  that 
binds  time  to  eternity;  it  is  the  pathway  between 
earth  and  heaven;  the  light-house  of  life;  and  the  star 
of  death.  The  Christian  begins  with  faith,  goes  on 
by  faith,  and  in  faith  his  life  must  end;  for  he  can 
only  lay  it  aside  when  the  glare  of  earthly  tempta- 
tions has  faded  away  forever,  in  the  immediate  pre- 
sence of  God. 

My  Christian  brethren,  would  you  seek  faith,  or 
an  increase  of  faith?  Ask  it  of  God:  for  God  alone 
can  give  it.  We  cannot  sit  down  and  reason  our- 
selves into  Gospel  faith;  that  is,  I  mean,  that  a  mere 
process  of  the  mind  is  not  all  that  is  necessary.  For 
faith,  as  we  are  expressly  told  in  the  Bible,  is  a  fruit 
of  the  Spirit,  and  the  gift  of  God.  My  brother,  weak 
in  faith,  fly  from  your  own  doubts  and  difficulties  to 
the  feet  of  our  blessed  Redeemer,  and  with  the  af- 
flicted father,  confess  your  faith  and  your  wants  to- 
gether, "Lord  I  believe,  help  thou  mine  unbelief;" 
and  be  assured,  that  he  will  never  send  you  away  un- 
strengthened.  And  let  us  all,  whatever  may  be  our 
spiritual  attainments  and  growth  in  grace,  pray,  with 
the  apostles  of  our  Master,  "  Lord  increase  our  faith." 

Brethren,  "  without  faith  it  is  impossible  to  please  " 
God.  Why  is  it,  then,  that  there  are  some  yet  desti- 
tute of  this  divine  principle ;  this  indispensable  qual- 
ification for  pleasing  God?  Alas,  there  are  some, 
there  are  many  amongst  us,  who  have  no  care  to 
please  God.  They  are  pleasing  themselves  by  hurt- 
ful lusts  and  foolish  pleasures ;  they  are  pleasing  their 
fellow   men   by  conforming  to  their   wishes,   either 


66  THE    NECESSITY    OF    FAITH. 

through  fear  of  their  displeasure,  or  a  desire  for  their 
approbation.  But  the  all-perfect  God,  their  best 
friend,  their  Creator,  Redeemer  and  Sanctifier,  He 
who  can  make  them  unspeakably  blessed  forever, 
He  who  can  destroy  both  soul  and  body  in  hell :  they 
are  passing  through  life,  they  are  hurrying  on  to 
death,  without  a  care  or  a  thought  or  a  wish  to  please 
Him  !  They  are  sleeping  what  may  be  the  sleep  of 
eternal  death.  How  unspeakably  wretched  is  the 
man  without  faith!  For  him,  life  has  no  object,  and 
sorrow  no  consolation.  The  grave  of  his  departed 
friend  has  no  hope  to  relieve  its  gloom.  And  his  last 
moments  are  passed,  either  in  stupid  indifference  to 
the  future,  like  the  beasts  that  perish,  or  in  "a  fear- 
ful looking  for  of  judgment,  and  fiery  indignation" 
from  that  God,  whom  he  has  never  sought  to  please, 
and  who  now  has  no  pleasure  in  him.  For  him,  vain- 
ly was  this  glorious  universe  created ;  for  him,  vainly 
did  the  Son  of  God  become  man;  for  him,  vainly  was 
that  most  precious  blood  poured  out.  "For  without 
faith  it  is  impossible  to  please  "  God.     And  now,  &c. 


SERMON  V. 

LOVE  THE  PROOF  OF  LIFE. 

[  For  the  Second  Sunday  after  Trinity.] 

Marvel  not,  my  brethren  if  the  world  hate  you.  We  know  that  we 
have  passed  from  death  unto  life,  because  we  love  the  brethren. 
He  that  loveth  not  his  brother  abideth  in  death, 

1  John,  iii.  13,  14. 

What  a  strange  contrast  was  presented  between  the 
world  and  the  Church,  in  the  elder  day  of  the  latter ! 
The  w^orld,  with  frown  and  scoff  and  jeer,  with  the 
chain,  the  sword,  and  the  lighted  torch,  poured  forth 
the  most  malignant  fury  upon  the  Church ;  hoping 
to  destroy  her  in  the  bright,  fresh  days  of  her  youth : 
while  the  Church,  meekly  imitating  her  Divine  Mas- 
ter, forgave  and  loved  and  blessed  the  world.  But 
from  time  to  time  it  chanced  that  one  of  the  proud, 
hateful,  persecuting  men  of  the  world,  one  of  those 
who  had  scorned  the  name  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and 
his  lowly  followers,  was  led  by  the  gentle  Spirit  of 
God  among  that  little  flock,  then  "  every  where 
spoken  against;"  and  being  "a  new  creature  in 
Christ  Jesus,"  was  rejoiced  to  hail  as  brethren  those 
very  persons  whom  before  he  had  doomed  to  the 
wasting  prison-house,  or  the  agonizing  fire.  And 
when  he  saw  the  love  that  existed  between  those 


6S  LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE. 

Christians,  when  he  witnessed  their  benevolence  for 
the  whole  family  of  man,  their  tender  anxiety  for  the 
temporal  and  eternal  welfare  of  their  bitterest  perse- 
cutors ;  yea,  more,  when,  in  his  own  renewed  heart, 
he  felt  that  in  the  place  of  bitterness  and  wrath  and 
malice,  there  had  sprung  up  the  kindest  love  for  those 
poor  despised  brethren  in  Christ,  and  a  merciful  dis- 
position to  al]  men ;  even  to  those  who  had  done  or 
wished  him  evil,  he  looked  back  upon  his  former 
associates,  and  wondered  how  it  could  be  that  they 
regarded  a  body  of  people  so  gentle  and  meek  and 
forffivinCT  with  such  vindictive  feelino-s.  For  such 
an  one,  the  words  of  our  text  must  have  been  written, 
to  remind  him  that  his  new  feelings  and  dispositions 
were  fruits  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  inhabited  his  soul, 
because  God  in  infinite  mercy  had  quickened  him, 
"dead  in  trespasses  and  sins ;"  had  delivered  him 
from  the  power  of  darkness ;  and  translated  him  into 
the  kingdom  of  His  dear  Son.  "  Marvel  not,  my 
brethren,  if  the  world  hate  you."  Hatred,  and  par- 
ticularly hatred  of  the  children  of  God,  belongs  to 
that  state  of  death  from  which  we  know  that  we  have 
passed,  "because  we  love  the  brethren." 

The  existence,  in  the  heart,  of  the  Gospel  principle 
of  love,  elsewhere  termed  charity,  the  sure  proof  of 
having  "  passed  from  death  to  life,"  is  the  point  which 
the  text  suggests,  and  which  may  profitably  employ 
our  thoughts  this  morning ;  after  a  brief  consideration 
of  the  peculiar  and  expressive  terms,  death  and  life. 

These  two  terms  death  and  life  are  of  course  figu- 
rative, and  describe  the  two  states  in  which  all  men 
are ;  in  the  one,  by  naturey  and  in  the  other  by  the 


LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE.  69 

grace  of  God.  Those  who  have  not  been  renewed 
in  the  spirit  of  their  minds,  whose  hearts  are  not  set 
to  obey  God's  commandments,  who  are  bent  upon 
the  gratification  of  their  corrupt  affections  and  lusts, 
who  serve  and  please  themselves,  instead  of  trying* 
to  serve  and  please  God,  are  said  to  be  in  a  state  of 
death,  because  they  are  dead  to  all  the  real  objects  of 
life  ;  because  they  are  dead  to,  that  is,  have  no  in- 
terest in,  the  Lord  of  life  and  glory ;  and  because 
their  present  state,  if  continued  in,  must  end,  in  what 
is  called  in  the  Bible,  death  eternal  and  the  second 
death.  And  may  not  the  sinner,  the  man  in  the  state 
described,  well  be  termed  dead  ?  For  can  that  man 
be  said  to  live,  who  breathes  the  breath  of  life,  to 
profane,  to  disregard,  to  hate,  to  rebel  against  his 
Maker  ?  Can  that  man  be  said  to  live,  who  regards,  or 
acts  as  if  he  regarded,  these  brief  years  of  vanity  as 
his  all  of  life;  who  with  the  privilege  of  becoming  the 
son  of  God,  with  the  offer  of  eternal  blessedness, 
with  the  glorious  object  set  before  him  of  being  made 
anew  in  the  likeness  of  the  great  and  good  God, 
chooses  to  be  a  child  of  the  devil,  squanders  his 
treasure  of  happiness  in  the  uncertain  days  of  life, 
and,  at  last,  by  a  long  course  of  selfishness  and  sin, 
having  effaced  every  trace  of  the  divine  image  from 
his  soul,  is  cast — a  moral  wreck — upon  the  shoreless 
ocean  of  Eternity?  Or,  can  he  be  said  to  live,  who, 
while  his  God  is  sending  down  His  blessings  upon 
the  evil  and  the  good,  while  the  face  of  nature  wears 
an  unchanging  smile,  and  while  all  around  and  above 
him  invites  to  benevolence  and  goodness,  creeps 
through  the  world,  hating  and  envying  and  tortur- 


70  LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE. 

ing,  as  far  as  it  may  be  in  his  power,  his  fellow-men? 
Surely,  one  so  at  variance  with  his  Maker,  with 
righteousness  and  truth,  is,  although  he  has  "  a  name 
to  live,^''  dead.  On  the  other  hand,  how  beautifully 
descriptive  of  the  state  of  the  true  Christian  is  the 
term  life ;  of  him  who  has  been  brought  back  from 
the  paths  of  sin  and  folly,  to  the  fold  of  the  good 
Shepherd,  being  reconciled  to  God  by  faith,  in  Jesus 
Christ,  and  renewed  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  is  now 
living  a  life  of  faith  in  his  blessed  Saviour.  He  lives ; 
for  sin,  the  cause  and  first  principle  of  death,  has  been 
destroyed  in  his  soul,  and  "  the  law  of  the  spirit  of 
life  in  Christ  Jesus,"  has  been  implanted  in  its  stead. 
He  lives  ;  lives  to  God,  for  he  is  at  peace  with  his 
Maker,  and  there  has  been  formed  between  them  an 
everlasting  covenant  which  shall  not  be  broken.  He 
lives  to  love  and  to  bless  his  fellow-men,  by  making 
them  good  and  happy  now,  and  so,  good  and  happy 
forever.  And  when  he  dies ;  oh,  the?i  he  but  begins 
to  live.  The  pale  cheek,  the  dim  eye,  and  the 
quivering  frame,  and  the  terrors  of  death,  they  are 
but  the  last  shades  of  night;  scattering  before  the  first 
beams  of  the  endless  day — "  Mortality  is  swallowed 
up  of  life." 

My  brethren,  in  one  of  these  two  states,  life  or 
death,  we  all  at  this  moment  are :  and  man  cannot 
ask  himself  a  more  solemn  question  than  "In  which 
of  these  states  am  I?"  The  apostle,  St.  John,  in  the 
text,  has  given  us  a  sure  and  certain  test  by  which  to 
ascertain  our  state  before  God ;  and  he  tells  that  we 
may  know  that  we  have  passed  from  death  unto  life, 
— not  because  we  have  professed  Christ  before  men, 


LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE.  71 

not  because  we  have  been  baptized,  or  confirmed,  or 
are  partakers  of  the  holy  communion,  necessary  as 
all  these  means  are,  in  their  several  places,  for  se- 
en rinor  the  divine  favour,  and  for  commencinor  and 
continuing  the  divine  life  in  the  soul ;  nor  because 
we  have  certain  inward  exercises,  exaggerated  views 
of  our  own  sinfulness,  rapturous  ecstacies  of  joy,  or 
can  point  to  certain  moments  when  mysterious 
assurances  of  pardon  v/ere  borne  in  upon  the  soul ; 
for  of  such  tests  the  Bible  is  totally  silent,  and  he 
who  demands  them  as  evidences  of  a  state  of  grace, 
or  as  qualifications  for  the  Communion,  is  exercising 
an  unholy  tyranny  over  God's  heritage — but,  because 
we  love  the  brethren.  Love  is  the  sign  of  life.  Let 
us  then  examine  for  a  few  moments  this  principle  of 
Christian  love,  in  its  foundation,  its  nature,  and  two 
or  three  of  the  modes  in  which  it  is  usually  mani- 
fested ;  and  let  us  do  it  too  with  the  express  object 
of  ascertaining,  by  a  plain,  simple,  scriptural  test, 
whether  our  hearts  are  right  with  God. 

Christian  love  has  its  foundation  wholly  in  Christ; 
not  only,  I  mean,  as  coming  into  the  soul,  a  living 
principle  from  Christ,  through  the  Spirit,  but  because 
it  is  a  love  to  men  for  Christ's  sake.  It  forgets  their 
infirmities  and  follies,  the  peculiarities  of  temper  and 
disposition  which  in  many  men  are  so  apt  to  disgust 
us,  and  looks  upon  them  as  brethren  in  Christ  Jesus, 
washed  from  their  sins  in  His  most  precious  blood. 
Just  as  in  every  day  life,  upon'a  similar  principle,  we 
treat  with  love  and  kindness  a  person  in  whom  we 
were  not  before  interested,  for  the  sake  of  a  mutual 
friend.    Christian  love  is  founded  also  in  the  common 


^ 


72  LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE. 

hopes  and  fears  entertained  by  those  between  whom 
it  exists ;  and  in  a  sense  of  the  dangers  to  Avhich  all 
are  alike  exposed ;  for  it  remembers  that  all  are  in- 
volved in  a  common  ruin,  that  all  have  been  redeem- 
ed by  a  common  Saviour,  that  all  are  subject  to  com- 
mon dangers  and  temptations,  and  that  all  are  look- 
ing forward  to  a  common  hope.  Place  a  number  of 
men  together,  who  have  been  ever  so  widely  severed 
by  tastes,  habits  and  pursuits,  and  expose  them  to 
some  great  danger ;  and  you  will  see  during  the  time 
of  its  continuance  or  after  it  is  removed,  how  the 
sharing  of  common  fear  and  joy  melts  down  in  a  mo- 
ment all  the  artificial  distinctions  of  life,  and  knits  all 
hearts  in  one.  And  is  not  the  feeling  that  exists  be- 
tween all  true  Christians  precisely  similar,  only  infi- 
nitely higher  and  holier  in  its  nature  ?  Bring  now  a 
number  of  real  Christians  together,  from  all  parts  of 
the  earth,  before  unacquainted  with  each  other,  and 
do  you  think  that  the  recollection  of  the  danger  from 
which  they  had  all  escaped — the  danger  of  eternal 
death — of  that  friendship  of  their  Lord  and  Master 
in  which  all  are  partakers ;  of  that  common  hope 
which  all  indulge — the  hope  of  heaven — would  leave 
them  long  without  mutual  interest  and  affection  ?  So 
you  see,  that  Christian  love  is  based  not  so  much  upon 
taste,  as  upon  that  common  relation  in  which  all  be- 
lievers stand  to  each  other,  as  children  of  God. 

It  must  not,  of  course,  be  thought,  that  this  affec- 
tion is  exercised  only  towards  those  who  are  true  be- 
lievers ;  for,  like  its  divine  Giver,  it  extends  itself  to  all 
men.  But  the  Christian's  love  for  the  world  is  still 
something  different  from  his  love  for  Christians.     It 


LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE.  73 

is  absurd  to  suppose  for  instance,  that  God  exercises 
the  same  love  towards  those  who  love  and  obey  Him, 
and  those  who  hate  and  disobey  Him.  No  more  can 
His  true  child.  For  the  world,  that  is  for  ungodly 
people,  who  live  merely  with  reference  to  this  pre- 
sent world,  and  who  act  upon  principles  that  find 
sole  favour  with  the  world,  he  entertains  a  love  of 
beneoolence  and  beneficence;  that  is,  he  wishes  them 
well,  and  strives  to  do  all  the  good  to  them  that  he 
possibly  can.  But  the  love  of  complacency  is  that 
which  he  feels  for  the  children  of  God.  He  delights 
in  them,  because  they  are  good,  and  pure,  and  true, 
and  are  like  his  Father  in  Heaven.  If  you  have  ever 
had  your  eye  arrested,  when  wandering  away  from 
the  scenes  and  endearments  of  home,  by  a  real  or 
fancied  resemblance,  in  an  unknown  passer-by,  to 
some  beloved  friend  on  far  distant  shores,  you  know 
how  deep  an  interest  will  be  excited  in  a  mere  stran- 
ger for  the  sake  of  such  resemblance !  And  so  is  it 
with  the  Christian,  when  in  some  fellow-pilgrim, 
before  unknowm  to  him,  he  sees  a  likeness  to  his 
heavenly  Father.  Such  dispositions,  St.  John  tells 
us,  must  necessarily  exist  between  God's  children, 
on  account  of  their  mutual  relation  to  Him.  "Every 
one  that  loveth  him  that  begot,  loveth  him  also  that 
is  begotten  of  Him."  My  brethren,  if  we  have  no 
such  delight  in  the  good,  for  the  sake  of  their  likeness 
to  the  Fountain  of  all  goodness,  it  is  because  we  have 
never  known  God. 

But  there  is  a  false,  unhealthy  feeling  found  among 
some  professing  Christians,  which  ought  to  be  strict- 
ly guarded  against.     In  some  cases  it  assumes  the 

10 


74  LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE. 

form  of  the  wildest  radicalism ;  and  in  others  it  dis- 
plays itself  as  a  sickly  sentimentality.  But  true 
Christian  love  does  not  aim  and  does  not  te7id,  to 
break  down  those  distinctions  in  society,  which  are 
positively  necessary  for  the  happiness  and  well-be- 
ing of  all  classes  of  men;  but  it  places  those  distinc- 
tions upon  their  true  grounds,  rendering  them  less 
dangerous  to  superiors^  and  to  inferiors  more  tolera- 
ble. In  proof  of  this  assertion,  we  have  the  words 
of  the  apostle,  St.  Paul,  addressed  to  those  members 
of  the  Ephesian  Church  who  were  living  at  service. 
"They  that  have  believing  masters,  let  them  not 
despise  them,  because  they  are  brethren;  but  rather 
do  them  service,  because  they  are  faithful  and  belo- 
ved, partakers  of  the  benefit  y  Nor,  again,  does  Chris- 
tian love  consist  in  the  use  of  certain  words  and  phra- 
ses with  which  certain  good  people  seem  to  think  it 
necessarily  connected.  We  may  say,  "Lord,  Lord," 
and  yet  be  destitute  of  a  true  principle  of  obedience 
to  Christ;  and  so  too  we  may  say  "brother,  brother," 
and  yet  have  no  true  fraternal  love  in  our  hearts. 
Indeed,  it  should  seem  that  St.  John  has  given  us  a 
distinct  warning  against  an  appearance  of  this  af- 
fection, consisting  in  words  and  names ;  meanwhile 
pointing  us  to  the  deep  inward  principle.  "My  lit- 
tle children  let  us  not  love  in  rvord,  neither  in  tongue; 
but  in  deed  and  in  truth.'''' 

But  as  it  is  necessarily  difficult  to  define  mental 
feelings  and  moral  principles,  and  as  they  are  best 
understood  in  and  by  their  effects,  let  us  examine 
some  two  or  three  of  the  ways  in  which  this  Gospel 
principle  of  love  is  manifested,  and  the  manner  in 

1?  . 


LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE.  75 

which  it  usually  displays  itself;  such  as  in  doing  good, 
or  works  of  benevolence ;  in  the  treatment  of  brethren 
who  err;  and  in  conduct  toivards  those  who  offend,  es- 
peciaUij  against  ourselves. 

In  works  of  be^ievolence  which  spring  from  the  root 
of  Christian  love,  even  if  the  station  in  life  of  the 
doer  leaves  room  for  such  a  notion,  there  is  no 
thought  of  co7idescension.  If  the  Christian  leaves  the 
proudest  mansion,  to  minister  to  the  necessities  of 
the  inmates  of  the  lowliest  hovel,  he  does  not  think 
for  a  moment  that  he  is  condescending  in  so  doing : 
for  he  knows  that  the  Lord  of  Glory,  the  only  Being 
ever  upon  the  earth  who  had  a  right  to  look  with  con- 
tempt upon  any  man,  was  not  ashamed  to  call  us  all 
brethren  ;  and  that  the  ano^els  leave  the  brii^htness  of 
heaven  for  the  dim  obscurity  of  the  dwellings  of  the 
heirs  of  salvation ;  and  he  bends  at  the  bedside  of 
"  the  brother  of  low  degree,"  rejoicing  to  minister 
with  the  hosts  of  Heaven  to  his  gracious  Master,  in 
the  person  of  one  of  the  least  of  his  brethren.  Upon 
the  same  principle,  he  does  not  confine  his  works  of 
love  to  those  only  who  interest  his  feelings;  but  even 
as  the  most  uninteresting  scenes  in  nature  become 
dear  to  us  when  connected  with  the  remembrance  of 
friends,  so  do  the  most  uncouth  and  unattractive  men 
become  interesting  to  him,  when  associated  in  his 
mind  with  Christ.  Nor  when,  as  is  too  often  the 
case,  his  kindness  is  met  with  ingratitude  and  indif- 
ference, does  he  cease  his  labours  of  love;  for  "charity 
never  faileth :"  and  he  asks  himself,  where  should  I 
now  be,  if  my  ingratitude  and  long  indifference  had 
alienated  and  turned  away  from  me  the  love  of  my 


76  LOVE    THE    PROOF    6F    LIFE. 

great  Benefactor?  Ah,  my  brethren!  if  such  a  spi- 
rit ruled  our  hearts,  we  should  not  so  soon  be  "  weary 
in  well-doing,"  so  guided  by  mere  taste  in  the  choice 
of  the  objects  of  our  beneficence,  or  so  easily  offended 
by  a  want  of  that  gratitude  which  we  expect  too 
much ;  and  many  a  one,  who  is  now  an  outcast  from 
society  and  from  God,  would  be  restored  to  all  that  is 
really  good  and  desirable  in  life,  brought  back  by  the 
untiring  hand  of  Christian  Love. 

Again,  "for  it  must  needs  be  that  offences  come ;" 
and  how  does  the  Christian  treat  them  ?  When  he 
sees  his  brother  ''  sin  a  sin)"  does  he  blazon  it  to  the 
world,  hypocritically  accompanying  the  announce- 
ment with  many  protestations  of  sorrow  ?  No !  his 
charity  displays  itself  in  silence  before  man  ;  and  in 
prayer  to  the  All-Merciful:  for  he  knows,  at  the  best? 
what  a  poor,  frail  filing  is  the  heart  of  man ;  what  a 
fearful  thing  it  is  for  a  child  of  God,  for  one  who 
has  tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift,  to  offend,  and  he 
weeps  with  the  angels  at  the  good  man's  fall.  Even 
against  the  most  abandoned  sinner,  the  heart  of  the 
Christian  is  not  steeled :  and  where  it  is  not  his 
bounden  duty  to  condemn,  he  says  in  the  spirit  of  his 
Master,  "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee,  go  and  sin  no 
more."  For  he  remembers  that  by  the  grace  of  God 
he  is,  what  he  is ;  and  he  runs  back  in  thought  to 
the  time  when  that  hardened  brutal,  profligate  man, 
was  a  little  sinless  child,  bending  his  knee,  and  lisp- 
ing his  accepted  prayer  by  his  mother's  side :  and  he 
thinks  of  the  many  temptations  that  may  have  beset 
that  sinner,  from  which  he  has  been  mercifully  deli- 
vered ;  of  the  good  influences  enjoyed  by  him   and 


LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE.  77 

denied  to  the  poor  wanderer  from  the  right  way  ;  and 
censure  and  rebuke  give  place  to  pity  for  his  sad  con- 
dition, and  earnest  prayer  for  his  conversion.  Thus, 
true  Christian  love  seeks,  to  the  very  last,  to  hide, 
rather  than  proclaim  offences,  and  to  imitate  the  long 
suffering  of  God. 

But  there  is  a  situation,  in  which  we  are  all  more 
or  less  liable  to  be  placed,  which  is  the  most  trying 
to  the  strength  of  the  principle  of  which  we  speak, 
and  yet  the  one  in  which,  of  all  others,  it  appears  most 
divine;  I  mean,  when  offences  are  committed  against 
ourselves.  We  know  from  experience  that  the  first 
impulse  of  heart,  is  to  resent  and  revenge;  although 
any  indulgence  in  such  feelings  marks  at  once  the 
state  of  death.  iVnd  how  does  Christian  love  con- 
duct itself  under  such  circumstances?  In  the  first 
place,  it  is  not  suspicious  of  an  intention  to  slight  or 
offend ;  for  it  is  kind  itself,  and  "thinketh  no  evil." 
But  when  convinced  that  there  is  an  intention  to 
offend,  insult  and  injure,  the  possessor  of  this  divine 
principle  goes  to  the  offender,  asks  him  what  evil  he 
has  done,  and,  though  offended  against,  sues  for  a  re- 
conciliation. If  he  fails,  if  he  is  repulsed,  although 
of  course  not  bound  to  place  himself  in  the  way  of 
farther  insult  and  injury,  yet  he  is  still  ever  on  the 
watch  for  a  good  opportunity  of  gaining  his  offending 
brother,  that  he  may  take  advantage  of  the  first  gleam 
of  returning  kindness  and  gentleness.  How  much 
blood  might  be  saved  by  the  kind  offices  of  Christian 
love  !  How  many  families  and  congregations  might 
be  preserved  in  peace  and  harmony  by  the  presence 
of  the  same  gentle  spirit!     But  most  men  are  proud 


78  LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE. 

and  vindictive,  and  prefer  hatred  to  forgiveness ;  and 
even  those  who  have  better  feelings  are  too  often 
afraid  to  obey  them.  In  this  way,  it  is,  that  we  often 
see  feuds  existing  for  years  between  individuals  or 
families,  which  might  be  healed  in  a  moment,  after 
the  first  gust  of  passion  has  subsided.  But  one  says, 
"  I  have  done  all  in  my  power  to  make  up  this  quar- 
rel ;  it  is  not  my  part  to  make  another  attempt."  Yet 
if  you  are  a  Christian,  try  once  again ;  it  may  be  that 
the  good  time  has  come ;  for  if  you  have  indeed 
"  passed  from  death  unto  life,"  you  know  of  a 
mighty  One  against  whom  you  have  often  offended, 
and  yet  who  sought  again  and  again  to  win  your 
heart.  If  He  had  ceased  His  efforts,  where  would  you 
now  be  ?  Your  enemy  is  wretched,  for  he  is  in  a 
state  of  spiritual  death.  Remember  not  his  former, 
it  may  be  his  oft  repeated,  offence;  but  his  present 
misery.  Go  once  again  to  him ;  entreat  him  gently 
"as  a  brother,"  for  Christ's  sake,  to  be  reconciled  to 
you.  "If  he  shall  hear  thee,  thou  hast  gained  thy 
brother;"  gained  him  for  heaven  and  God.  And 
think  of  the  blessedness  of  being  the  instrument,  un- 
der God,  of  taking  away  that  proud  and  hateful  heart. 
"Blessed  are  the  peacemakers;  for  they  shall  be 
called  the  children  of  God." 

But  there  is  a  spurious  hollow-hearted  forgiveness, 
which  some  mistake  for  the  forgiveness  of  Christian 
love.  Some  persons  suppose  that  if  they  are  not  in- 
juring those  who  have  injured  them,  either  in  word 
and  deed,  they  are  fulfilling  the  law  of  love,  even 
though  they  refuse  to  hold  further  intercourse  with 
the  offenders.     But,  no.     The   Christian's   forgive- 


LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE.  79 

ness  of  his  brother  must  resemble  God's  forgiveness 
of  us  all.  And  what  man  ever  sinned  against  man, 
as  each  one  of  us  has  sinned  against  God?  And  yet 
God  admits  the  penitent  to  a  free  pardon,  treating 
him  as  if  he  had  never  sinned ;  and  admitting  him  to 
free  communion  and  friendship.  So  must  every  one 
of  us  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  us;  admitting 
them  again  to  hold  intercourse  with  us,  freely  for- 
giving and  forgetting  all.  If  we  do  not  do  this,  rely 
upon  it,  no  matter  what  the  lip  professes,  there  is 
hatred  to  a  brother  lurking  in  the  heart,  and  we  are 
abiding  in  death. 

And  shall  we  now  be  told  of  this  whole  subject, 
such  a  spirit  is  not  in  man — it  is  divine.  True,  it 
is  so,  and  therefore  its  presence  in  the  soul  is  a  proof 
of  our  being  born  of  God,  of  having  passed  from  death 
unto  life.  And  now,  by  this  test,  let  us  all  seriously 
try  ourselves,  whether  we  are  of  God.  How  is  it 
when  you  hear  of  a  Christian  man's  doing  wrong  ? 
Do  you  feel  grieved  that  one  professing  godliness 
has  sinned  ;  and  keep  as  silent  about  it  as  possible? 
Are  you,  as  members  of  families,  as  members  of  this 
congregation,  walking  in  love  with  those  with  whom 
you  are  associated  ?  Have  you  a  peculiar  affection  for 
all  religious  persons,  because  they  are  brethren  in 
Christ  Jesus  ?  Have  none  of  you  offered  this  day 
that  solemn  petition,  "forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as 
we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  us;"  blending 
your  voices,  with  the  voices  of  those  whom  you  have 
not  forgiven  for  some  real  or  fancied  injury?  What 
an  awful  mockery,  to  offer  up  that  prayer  in  such  a 
spirit !  It  is  in  fact  imprecating  God's  curse  upon  our 


80  LOVE    THE    PROOF    OF    LIFE. 

own  heads !  Is  there  no  one  who  draws  near  this 
Holy  Altar,  to  take  the  communion  of  the  Body  and 
Blood  of  Christ,  and  kneels  down  side  by  side  with 
those  against  whom  he  is  entertaining  feelings  of 
envy,  jealousy  and  hatred?  It  is  a  fearfully  wicked 
thing  to  "eat  of  that  bread  and  drink  of  that  cup" 
with  one  unforgiving  thought  in  the  heart;  and  if 
such  be  the  case  with  any,  though  for  long  years 
they  have  professed  Christ  before  men,  theij  are  abid- 
ing in  death.  Christian,  turn  your  eye  to  the  awful 
Cross ;  and  contrast  your  conduct  with  that  of  the 
Master,  whom  you  profess  to  imitate.  You  are 
hating  your  brother  for  a  hasty  word,  a  cold  look,  or 
because — unwittingly  it  may  be — he  has  interfered 
with  some  of  your  cherished  schemes.  He  underwent 
insult  and  anguish  that  language  cannot  picture,  and 
almost  His  last  word  was  a  prayer  for  His  torturers — 
"  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do."  Brethren,  let  us  not  deceive  ourselves.  '^  He 
that  loveth  not  his  brother  abideth  in  death."  "If  a 
man  say  I  love  God,  and  hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a 
liar :  for  he  that  loveth  not  his  brother  whom  he 
hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God,  whom  he  hath  not 
seen?" 

And  now  perhaps  there  are  some  honest  enough  to 
confess,  that  they  have  no  such  interest  in  men.  for 
Christ's  sake ;  yea,  even  that  they  are  hating  some  of 
their  brethren:  and  who,  moreover,  are  reasonable 
enough  to  admit  that  if  the  Bible  be  true,  they  are 
abiding  in  death.  And  it  may  be  that  the  inconsis- 
tencies and  strifes  of  many,  who  profess  and  call 
themselves  Christians,  have  almost  led  them  to  dis- 


LOVE    THE    PROOF    OP^    LIFE.  81 

believe  the  reality  of  spiritual  life  and  Christian  love. 
But  can  the  dead  know  aught  of  life?  Yet,  if  they 
ever  arise  from  their  state  of  spiritual  death,  and 
hear  the  voice  of  Christ,  and  are  filled  with  that  love 
which  raises  the  soul  far  above  the  petty  strifes  and 
jealousies  and  enmities  of  the  world,  and  fixes  it  upon 
God,  and  for  His  sake,  upon  all  men,  whether  friends 
or  foes;  and  then  contrast  their  new-born  feelings 
with  the  miserable  envy  and  malice  in  which  they 
once  indulged,  they  will  not  wonder  that  love  to  all 
men,  "and  especially  unto  them  who  are  of  the  house- 
hold of  faith,"  has  been  laid  down  in  Holy  Writ  as 
an  unequivocal  proof  of  having  passed  from  death 
unto  life.  For  then  they  will  see,  that  to  envy,  and 
hate,  and  bear  malice,  is  to  be  a  child  of  the  devil; 
and  that  to  dwell  in  love,  is  to  dwell  in  God. 


O  Lord,  who  hast  taught  us  that  aH  our  doings  without  charity  are  nothing 
worth ;  send  thy  Holy  Ghost,  and  pour  into  our  hearts  that  most  excellent  gift 
of  charity,  the  very  bond  of  peace,  and  of  ail  virtues ;  without  which,  whoso- 
ever liveth  is  counted  dead  before  thee :  Grant  this  for  thine  only  Son  Jesus 
Christ's  sake.     Amen. 

11 


SERMON  VI. 

PHARISAICAL  AND  EVANGELICAL  RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

[For  the  sixth  Sunday  after  Trinity.] 

For  I  say  unto  you,  that  except  your  righteousness  shall  exceed  the 

righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  ye  shall  in  no  case 

enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

St.  Matthew,  v.  20. 

The  nature  of  salvation  through  Christ  has  ever 
been  a  subject  of  much  misapprehension.  The  com- 
mon, and,  as  it  is  deemed,  erroneous  notion  of  it, 
being,  that  it  is  pardon,  or  deliverance  from  the 
punishment  of  sin;  while  the  statements  in  Scripture 
seem  to  treat  it  rather  as  a  moral,  spiritual  salvation, 
a  freedom  from  the  law  of  sin  and  death,  or  of  the 
natural  evil  principle,  and  an  obedience  to  the  law  of 
the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ :  the  new  infused  prin- 
ciple of  righteousness,  which  is  the  fruit  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Thus,  St.  Paul  states  the  great  object  of  the 
humiliation  and  death  of  the  Eternal  Son  to  be,  "  to 
redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  that  he  might  purify 
unto  himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of  good 
works."  This  is  certainly  an  important  matter;  for 
upon  a  due  understanding  of  the  true  nature  of  sal- 
vation depends  much  of  our  happiness  and  consola- 
tion now  and  here:  and  a  misunderstanding  of  it 
may  end  in  ruin.     It  is  to  be  feared  that  some  among 


PHARISAICAL  AND  EVANGELICAL  RIGHTEOUSNESS.    83 

US  are  trusting  to  the  death  of  Christ,  as  a  ground  for 
impunity  in  sinning ;  thinking  that  in  some  mystical 
way,  their  garments,  stained  with  sin,  are  to  be  co- 
vered with  the  robe  of  His  righteousness.  Others, 
instead  of  striving  to  crucify  the  old  man  or  nature, 
to  utterly  abolish  the  whole  body  of  sin,  are  ever 
watching  for  an  assurance  of  pardon ;  which  is  given 
but  once  in  a  man's  life,  and  then  but  one  way,  and 
that  is  in  Baptism.  But  our  Saviour,  in  our  text, 
assures  us  plainly  that  there  is  an  inward,  spiritual 
righteousness  to  be  attained,  in  order  to  final  salva- 
tion; a  righteousness  exceeding  the  righteousness  of 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees.  What  that  righteousness 
is,  concerns  all  of  us  to  know;  for  we  all  are  soon  to 
commence  a  journey  which,  without  it,  will  have  a 
gloomy  end.  Let  us  compare  together  the  evange- 
lical righteousness,  and  the  righteousness  of  the  Pha- 
risees, after  briefly  noticing  one  or  two  words  in  the 
text. 

The  righteousness  spoken  of  in  the  text  is  not  any 
moral  or  other  work  belonging  to  any  one  else,  which 
is  to  be  imputed  to  us ;  but  it  is  a  spiritual  work,  to 
be  wrought  within  us:  which  is  evident  from  the 
passages  following  our  text,  in  which  our  Saviour 
shows  the  spiritual  obedience  required  by  the  Law 
of  God,  summing  up  the  whole  with  an  injunction, 
to  be  "perfect,  even  as  our  Father  in  heaven  is  per- 
fect." It  consists  in  a  perfect  conformity  of  the 
whole  man,  body,  soul  and  spirit,  to  the  law  of  right: 
a  setting  apart  or  dedicating  to  God  of  all  our  powers 
and  faculties,  time  and  opportunities;  a  reducing  to 
the  obedience  of  faith,  of  our  own  thoughts,  words, 


84  PHARISAICAL    AND    EVANGELICAL 

wills,  actions  and  affections.  This  is  the  holiness, 
without  which,  "no  man  shall  see  the  Lord."  Now, 
some  people,  in  hearing  this  statement,  or  like  state- 
ments, are  apt  to  say,  "  How  strange  it  is,  when  the 
work  was  all  done  by  our  Lord,  on  the  Cross,  that 
there  should  still  be  so  great  a  work  to  be  done  in 
our  souls!"  But,  brethren,  the  awful  mystery  of  the 
Cross  never  was  intended  to  be  substituted  for  per- 
sonal holiness.  The  Cross  is  the  assurance  of  mercy, 
and  pardon  and  grace;  the  type  and  pattern  of  the 
new  inward  and  outward  life,  to  be  led  by  the  re- 
deemed. But  the  death  of  Christ  will  do  us  no  lasting 
good,  unless  we,  too,  by  his  grace  strengthening  us,  die 
unto  sin,  and  live  unto  righteousness.  For  our  call- 
ing is  far  higher  and  nobler  than  a  mere  deliverance 
from  punishment.  We  are  called  up  to  be  partakers 
of  the  divine  nature,  to  enter  into  the  Holiest;  that  is, 
to  approach  spiritually  and  actually  to  God,  by  the 
blood  of  Jesus,  through  the  new  and  living  way,  the 
veil  of  His  flesh,  which  he  hath  consecrated  for  us. 
When  you  think  of  the  Cross,  think  of  it  as  a  sign 
and  pledge  of  mercy  to  all,  who  forsake  sin,  but  to 
none  beside ;  as  an  encouragement  and  incitement — 
yea,  as  laying  a  strong  necessity  upon  us — to  be 
personally  holy. 

The  "kingdom  of  heaven,"  in  the  text,  means  the 
Church  in  glory,  the  state  of  the  blessed  in  heaven  : 
and  not,  as  some  have  explained  it,  the  Church  mili- 
tant on  earth ;  or  the  reign  of  grace  in  the  heart.  For 
the  Church  on  earth  is  the  ark  into  which  men  are 
to  enter,  in  order  that  they  may  become  sanctified 
and  just.  It  is  the  city  of  refuge  for  sinners,  the  home 


RIGHTEOUSNESS.  85 

for  the  weary.  Men  are  not  to  wait  for  an  advanced 
state  of  holiness,  before  they  become  members  of  the 
Church,  but  the  moment  a  man,  if  he  is  so  unhappy 
as  not  to  have  been  made  a  member  of  Christ  in  in- 
fancy, begins  to  repent  and  believe,  he  should  enter 
the  Church,  at  once ;  as  the  home  where  the  Saviour 
of  the  soul  may  be  found.  Besides,  we  do  see  some, 
perhaps  many,  whose  righteousness  does  not  exceed 
the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  who, 
nevertheless,  enter  the  Church  upon  earth;  so  that 
the  phrase,  "Kingdom  of  Heaven,"  cannot  mean  the 
Church  here,  otherwise  our  Saviour's  words  have 
been  falsified.  Neither  can  the  phrase  mean  the 
reign  of  grace  in  the  heart,  because  it  would  be  ab- 
surd to  say,  that  unless  grace  reigns  in  the  heart, 
grace  does  not  reign  in  the  heart;  which,  with  that 
interpretation,  would  be  the  drift  of  the  sentence.  So 
then  the  expression,  "  Kingdom  of  Heaven,"  refers  to 
that  Holy  City,  the  Jerusalem  above,  into  which  "shall 
in  no  wise  enter  any  thing  thatdefileth,  neither  what- 
soever worketh  abomination,  or  maketh  a  lie;  but 
they  which  are  written  in  the  Lamb's  Book  of  Life." 
"Except  your  righteousness  shall  exceed  the 
righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees.^'  Phari- 
saical righteousness  was  superficial,  partial,  and 
wrought  in  reliance  upon  their  own  strength,  in  order 
to  merit  heaven.  It  was  a  superficial  righteousness, 
in  that  it  consisted  in  outward  actions,  and  not  in  in- 
ward principles;  and  while  those  who  practised  it 
were  highly  commended  for  their  piety,  by  men,  they 
were  utterly  abominable  to  the  Searcher  of  hearts. 
The    Scribes    and    Pharisees    were    men-pleasers. 


86  PHARISAICAL    AND    EVANGELICAL 

serving  the  Lord  with  eye  service,  not  doing  the 
will  of  God  from  the  heart.  They  were  very  careful 
to  abstain  from  outward  acts  forbidden  by  the  law 
of  God  ;  their  hands  were  unpolluted  by  a  brother's 
blood,  and  no  deeds  of  impurity  could  be  charged  to 
them.  But  the  stains  of  lust  and  hatred  defiled  their 
souls ;  and-  yet  they  could  stand  up  and  justify  them- 
selves before  God,  thanking  Him  that  they  were  not 
"as  other  men,  extortioners,  unjust,  and  adulterers." 
They  were  no  neglecters  of  prayer  and  fasting,  but 
the  hungering  and  thirsting  of  a  soul  after  righteous- 
ness, the  crucifying,  or  painfully  destroying  of  cor- 
rupt affections  and  desires,  they  knew  nothing  about. 
Their  religion  was  all  outward,  all  on  the  surface. 
They  were,  as  it  has  been  well  said  of  all  hypocrites, 
the  sepulchres  and  not  the  temples  of  piety. 

The  righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees 
was  partial,  and  embraced  not,  indeed,  aimed  not  to 
keep,  the  whole  law  of  God ;  for  they  had  a  notion,  in 
our  Saviour's  time,  that  a  strict  keeping  of  some  of 
the  great  commandments  would  atone  for  the  omis- 
sion to  observe  what  they  deemed  the  less  command- 
ments. Thus,  a  man  might  devote  a  portion  of  his 
substance  to  the  Temple ;  and  so  be  freed  from  the 
obligation  of  doing  anything  more  for  the  support  and 
sustenance  of  his  father  and  mother.  But  what  a 
miserable  apology  for  the  righteousness  of  God  !  As 
if  a  perfectly  holy  Being  could  look  with  compla- 
cency upon  a  sin,  for  the  sake  of  a  virtue !  At  what 
earthly  tribunal,  would  a  man  be  pardoned  for  a  theft, 
because  he  had  not  committed  murder  ?  Yet  these 
grovelling  souls  trusted  to  a  partial  obedience  for  ac- 


RIGHTEOUSNESS.  87 

ceptance  with  Him,  who  has  said  by  the  mouth  of 
St.  James,  that  **  whosoever  shall  keep  the  whole 
law  and  yet  oflfend  in  one  point,  he  is  guilty  of  all." 

Pharisaical  righteousness  was  wrought  in  reliance 
upon  their  own  strength,  in  order  to  merit  heaven. 
They  thought  that  the  law  was  given,  not  to  bring 
them  to  Christ,  not  to  show  them  the  sinful  tenden- 
cies of  their  corrupt  nature,  not  to  guide  them  when 
in  possession  of  spiritual  strength ;  but  for  the  pur- 
pose of  enabling  them  to  merit  heaven  by  it,  which 
they  thought  it  possible  to  do  by  their  own  unassisted 
strength.  A  notion,  which  all  reasonable  men  must 
see  tends  to  make  us  proud  and  vain,  and  to  prevent 
us  from  entertaining  that  sense  of  dependence,  which 
must  exist  in  the  heart  of  every  Christian,  in  order  to 
an  humble  walk  with  God. 

My  brethren,  our  blessed  Master,  in  telling  his  dis- 
ciples that  if  they  would  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven,  their  righteousness  must  exceed  the  right- 
eousness of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  has  intimated 
that  such  a  righteousness  would,  to  a  certain  extent, 
exist  in  the  Church;  that  there  would  be  some  of  his 
professed  followers  whose  religion  would  begin  and 
end  with  the  cold  service  of  the  lip — "  Lord !  Lord  !" 
And,  from  the  book  of  Revelations,  we  learn,  that, 
before  the  last  of  the  Apostles  had  gone  to  his  rest, 
there  was  a  Church,  saying  that  she  was  rich  and  in- 
creased with  goods,  and  had  need  of  nothing;  knowing 
not  that  she  was  wretched,  and  miserable,  and  poor, 
and  blind,  and  naked :  that  is,  that  she  professed  the 
form  of  godliness,  but  knew  nothing  of,  or  had  for- 
gotten, its  power.  It  will  be  proper  in  this  place  for  us 


So  PHARISAICAL    AND    EVANGELICAL 

to  inquire,  what  sort  of  men  among  us  practice,  and 
trust  for  salvation  to,  a  Pharisaical  righteousness  ? 
Evidently,  those  whose  religion  consists  entirely  in 
outward  acts.  The  Pharisee,  in  our  day,  is  a  regular 
attendant  at  Church,  and  reverently  bends  his  knee 
in  prayer :  but  when  he  prays  for  forgiveness,  it  is 
with  no  sense  of  sinfulness ;  when  he  prays  to  be 
delivered  from  sin  and  evil,  from  corrupt  affections 
and  lusts,  it  is  with  no  hatred  of  sin,  and  with  no 
contrary  longing  after  inward  piety  and  holiness. 
He  professes  Him,  before  men,  to  whom  he  has  never 
opened  his  heart.  He  is  often  very  active  in  finding 
out  what  his  neighbours  eat  and  drink,  freely  con- 
demning those  who  do  not  in  these  matters  submit 
their  views  of  riorht  and  wrong-  to  his ;  meanwhile 
forgetting  that  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  not  meat  and 
drink,  but  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the 
Holy  Ghost.  He  is  apt  to  be  an  active  member  of 
all  sorts  of  societies,  and  to  think,  that  if  any  man 
prefers  a  more  quiet  and  less  formal  way  of  doing 
good,  he  is,  as  a  matter  of  course,  destitute  of  true 
religion.  There  was  a  time  perhaps,  when  the  Chris- 
tian Pharisee  might  be  described  as  trusting  too 
much  to  sacraments,  forms  of  prayer,  holy  garments, 
and  the  observance  of  holy  days.  But  we  have  lived 
to  see  a  day,  when  men  look  upon  the  contempt  of 
these  things  as  an  infallible  sign  of  true  piety  :  when 
men  have  become  the  veriest  formalists  in  the  world, 
in  refusing  to  observe  forms ;  in  thinking  as  much 
that  it  is  acceptable  to  God  to  slight,  despise,  and 
omit,  certain  rites  and  ceremonies,  as  another  sort  of 
man,  in  an  elder  day,  deemed  that  it  was  acceptable 


RIGHTEOUSNESS.  89 

to  observe  and  highly  esteem  them.  The  Pharisee 
of  our  day,  imitates,  in  some  sort,  the  inward  work  of 
ri"^hteousness  ;  condemning-  himself  as  a  most  miser- 
able  sinner,  trusting  to  violent  emotions  and  strontj 
fancies  as  evidences  of  a  state  of  grace,  and  yet  in- 
dulgino;  in  evil  speaking,  in  slander,  in  covetousness, 
in  envy  and  hatred  :  mistaking  artificial  excitement 
and  morbid  states  of  feeling  for  that  true  work  of 
righteousness,  the  calm,  quiet  but  very  painful  cruci- 
fying of  self,  with  Christ,  on  his  Cross.  My  brethren, 
let  us  who  call  ourselves  Christians  be  very  careful 
to  avoid  in  every  way  a  Pharisaical  righteousness. 
See  to  it,  that  you  do  not  so  trust  to  outward  observ- 
ances, as  to  neglect  inward  religion.  See  to  it,  that 
you  do  not  so  trust  to  self  conceit,  and  vain  imagina- 
tions, as  to  slight  and  omit  necessary  means  of  grace. 
See  lo  it,  so  that  you  do  not  so  trust  to  your  own  works, 
as  to  forget  Christ  the  onhj  Saviour.  See  to  it,  that 
you  do  not  so  trust  to  Christ,  the  Saviour  only  of 
them  who  earnestly  labour  to  be  saved,  that  you 
neglect  that  holiness  without  which  you  cannot  see 
the  Lord;  that  righteousness  without  which  you  shall 
in  no  case  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 

And  if — for  I  would  address  another  class  of  peo- 
ple, some  of  whom  may  be  present — if  they,  whose 
righteousness  does  not  exceed  the  righteousness  of 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  shall  not  in  any  wise  be 
saved,  what  shall  become  of  you,  whose  righteous- 
ness falls  so  far  short  even  of  theirs.  They  prayed 
often,  fasted  twice  in  the  week,  gave  tithes  of  all  they 
possessed,  diligently  attended  on  the  public  worship 
of  God,  and  avoided  outward  violations  of  the  moral 

12 


90  PHARISAICAL  AND  EVANGELICAL 

law.  You  never  pray,  never  mortify  the  flesh,  give 
nothing  to  support  the  Church,  spend  the  Lord's 
day  in  idleness  or  vicious  amusements,  or  by  drunk- 
enness, uncleanness  of  profanity,  day  after  day,  pro- 
voke the  All  Merciful  to  anger.  My  brethren,  in 
that  day  when  you  shall  stand  side  by  side  with  sin- 
ful Pharisee  and  bigoted  Scribe,  what  will  your  out- 
ward and  inward  unrighteousness  receive  from  Him, 
who  accepts  not  even  a  partial  service,  who  will  be 
content  with  nothing  but  the  devotion  of  the  whole 
man  to  Himself? 

We  have  stated  briefly  some  of  the  characteristics 
of  Pharisaical  righteousness.  Let  us  now  examine 
some  of  the  properties  of  saving  righteousness — that 
righteousness  which  is  not  of  the  law,  but  by  faith 
in  Jesus  Christ,  The  righteousness  of  the  Phaiisee 
was  eye-service,  but  the  righteousness  of  the  true 
Christian  is  a  spiritual  service.  For  as  the  aim  of 
the  hypocrite  is  to  be  seen  of  men,  and  applauded, 
so  the  aim  of  the  good  man  is  to  be  known  and  ap- 
proved by  God.  His  great  question  on  all  occasions 
is,  will  this  please  God ;  for  his  great  object  is  not 
to  be  thought,  but  actually  to  be,  holy :  so  that  his 
righteousness  is  the  same,  seen,  as  unseen.  At 
Church,  he  is  ever  present,  and  his  conduct  there  is 
devout  and  reverential ;  and  if  you  follow  him  to  his 
closet,  you  will  find  him  unchanged :  for  in  both 
places  he  is  striving  for  the  approbation  of  the  same 
Being,  whose  all-seeing  eye,  rests  upon  each  indi- 
vidual heart,  alike  in  the  crowded  sanctuary,  and  the 
quiet  chamber.  The  inward  works  of  religion  are 
eqiiall}^  attended  to  by  the  truly  righteous  man,  with 


RIGHTEOUSNESS.  91 

the  outward.  He  is  seen  entering  the  habitations  of 
vice  and  misery,  to  reclaim,  comfort  and  alleviate; 
but  he  would  look  on  the  law  of  love,  as  all  neglected, 
if  he  did  not  with  equal  diligence  strive  to  drive 
envy,  and  hatred,  and  indifference,  from  his  heart. 
An  act  of  impurity  is  utterly  inconsistent  with  a 
state  of  grace,  but  a  good  man  shrinks,  with  equal 
abhorrence,  from  an  impure  thought  or  wandering 
desire ;  and  if  even  for  a  moment  such  thoughts  and 
desires  stain  his  soul,  he  cannot  be  at  ease  until, 
through  repentance,  they  have  been  w^ashed  away 
in  the  blood  of  Christ.  It  is  in  the  inward  life,  after 
all,  that  there  is  the  great  difterence  between  the 
Pharisee  and  the  righteous  man.  A  man  of  Phari- 
saical righteousness  makes  but  little  account  of 
thoughts,  desires,  and  words ;  for  he  accounts  them 
but  little  things.  The  man  of  inward  righteousness 
dreads  an  idle  word,  and  wrong  thought,  almost  as 
much  as  a  malicious  or  wicked  action;  for  he  knows 
that  that  can  be  no  true  religion,  w^hich  bridles  not 
the  tongue,  and  that  every  wrong  desire  has  in  it  the 
germ  of  eternal  death:  for  "lust,  when  it  hath  con- 
ceived, bringeth  forth  sin ;  and  sin,  when  it  is  finished, 
bringeth  forth  death." 

The  evangelical  righteousness  is  perfect — not  so 
much  in  degree,  as  in  will,  in  sincerity  and  in  endea- 
vour ;  for  it  consists  in  an  habitual  forsaking  of  sin, 
and  striving  to  do  right.  It  avoids  all  sin,  and  looks 
upon  no  sin  as  little.  It  cannot  retain  the  smallest 
sin,  for  it  looks  upon  the  principle  of  sin  with  utter 
abhorrence.  Neither  is  it  ever  contented  with  any 
degree  of  perfection,  but  is  ever  pressing  on  to  still 


02  PHARISAICAL    AND    EVANGELICAL. 

higher  and  hi<?her  attainments.  If  an  anojel  from 
heaven  should  descend  to  the  side  of  a  truly  good 
man,  and  tell  him  that  his  present  attainments  would 
admit  him  to  heaven,  do  you  think  that  he  would  sit 
down  contented,  and  make  no  farther  efforts?  No. 
For  he  follows  goodness  now  for  its  own  sake.  Con- 
versation with  Gcd  is  to  him  blessedness.  Holiness 
and  goodness,  he  knows,  are  the  perfection  of  his 
being,  and  he  trusts  to  follow  them  through  eternity. 
A  good  man  does  not  ask,  with  how  few  works  of 
righteousness  can  I  escape  punishment;  but  how 
much  can  I  do  for  my  Lord  ?  But  it  is  not  so  with 
the  man  of  the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and 
Pharisees ;  he  is  like  an  idle  school  boy,  constantly 
thinking  with  how  little  study  he  can  escape  punish- 
ment. The  Pharisee  asks,  how  small  part  of  my 
substance  will  God  take?  The  Christian,  how 
much  ?  The  Pharisee,  what  things  must  I  do  to  es- 
cape condemnation  ?  The  Christian,  what  can  I  do 
to  please  God  who  has  done  so  much  for  me  ?  The 
one  serves  because  he  must.  The  other,  because  he 
may. 

But  perhaps  the  most  marked  property  of  evan- 
gelical righteousness  is  its  profound  humility  and 
self  abasement.  The  good  man  knows  that  he  is 
nothing  of  himself,  that  by  the  grace  of  God  he  is 
what  he  is ;  that  his  sins  are  all  that  he  can  truly  call 
his  own.  At  the  same  time  he  trusts  that  he  is  in  a 
state  of  spiritual  health ;  that  he  is  going  on  from 
strength  to  strength  ;  for  there  is  a  marked  difference 
between  the  children  of  God  and  the  children  of  the 
devil,  and    "whosoever  is  born  of    God,    doth  not 


RIGHTEOUSNESS.  93 

commit  sin."  But  every  grace  that  he  has,  is  a  gift 
of  God,  through  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  him  he  ascribes 
all  the  glory. 

And  how  may  this  evangelical  and  perfect  righ- 
teousness be  obtained?  By  a  diligent  use  of  all  the 
appointed  means,  with  faith  working  by  love.  And 
it  is  not  attained  in  a  moment.  For  it  is  often  by  a 
long  and  tedious  and  painful  process.  I  mean  where 
persons  have  become  hardened  in  a  long  course  of 
sin;  for  to  those  who  from  the  baptismal  font  are 
brought  up  to  serve  the  Lord,  the  work  of  righteous- 
ness is  far  easier.  True,  in  both  cases,  there  is  a 
corrupt  nature  to  contend  with,  which  grace  freely 
given  alone  can  overcome.  But  the  conversion  of  an 
habitual  sinner  from  sin  to  God,  is  like  the  turning 
of  a  broad  full  river  from  its  ancient  channel,  which 
can  only  be  done  by  painful  labour  and  many  artifi- 
cial helps.  While  the  religious  progress  of  a  person 
who  increases  in  spiritual  stature  and  strength  from 
the  hour  of  the  baptismal  birth,  resembles  the  course 
of  a  mountain  rivulet  to  the  sea.  Near  its  source, 
and  along  the  first  part  of  the  way  there  are  some 
natural  obstructions  which  oppose  its  career,  and 
over  which  it  boils  and  foams;  but  as  its  channel 
deepens,  it  becomes  calmer  and  clearer,  and  at  last, 
unobstructed  and  unopposed,  glides  serenely  on  to 
the  ocean.  The  work  of  religion  or  gospel  righteous- 
ness is  the  work  of  a  life,  and  in  the  longest  life  it 
is  but  imperfectly  done.  How  strongly  then  does 
the  necessity  of  righteousness,  in  order  to  admission 
into  heaven,  call  upon  parents  and  sponsors  to  do  all 
in  their  power  to  bring  up  children  "to  lead  a  godly 


94  PHARISAICAL    Ax\D    EVANGELICAL 

and  a  Christian  life;"  and  upon  children  to  preserve 
their  baptismal  purity  unsullied  by  sin,  and  from 
very  childhood  to  give  up  their  hearts  to  the  Lord. 
If  there  were  better  notions  upon  this  subject,  there 
would  be  amongst  us,  in  our  own  hearts,  more 
righteousness  exceeding  the  righteousness  of  the 
Scribes  and  Pharisees.  But  we  have  a  notion  that 
children  must  grow  up,  sinning,  and  increasing  in 
sin,  until  a  certain  moment,  when  they  are  to  be  con- 
verted ;  and  then  suppose  that  they  will  be  as  well 
off  as  if  they  had  been  sanctified  from  their  birth. 
But  though  a  hardened  sinner  may  be  late  in  life  by 
the  mercy  of  God  savingly  converted,  yet  he  never 
can  be  in  as  good  a  state  as  those  w^ho  have  served 
God  from  their  youth  upwards.  For  he  must  bear, 
till  death,  the  scars  of  sin  in  his  soul,  though  the 
wounds  will  be  healed;  and  the  remembrance  of  sin 
must  oftentimes  cloud  his  joy  and  peace.  A  remem- 
brance which  does  not  disturb  the  bliss  of  the  few ; 
alas,  how  few — and  shame  upon  Christians  that  it  is 
so ! — who  never  know  what  it  is  to  be  habitual  sinners. 
My  brethren,  "except  your  righteousness  shall  ex- 
ceed the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees, 
you  shall  in  no  case  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven." And  yet,  in  the  face  of  this  solemn  admoni- 
tion there  are  such,  not  generally  deemed  unwise, 
who  put  off  repentance,  that  great  work  of  righteous- 
ness, until  the  hour  of  death.  And  then,  in  the  lan- 
guor of  disease,  often  accompanied  by  mental  imbe- 
cility, they  expect  to  do  their  work.  They  expect 
that  a  minister  of  Christ  kneeling  by  their  bed-side, 
a  few  prayers,  a  few  tears,  a  few  thoughts  of  the 


RIGHTEOUSNESS.  95 

Cross,  can  wipe  away  their  sins,  make  the  blasphe- 
mer lit  to  join  angelic  songs,  the  unclean  a  meet 
companion  for  the  saints  in  light,  yea,  for  the  sinless 
source  of  purity.  My  brethren,  some  of  you  are  in 
an  impenitent  state.  Have  you  calmly  made  up  your 
minds  not  to  begin  to  repent  to-day?  Then  it  is 
quite  possible  that  the  bed  of  death  will  be  the  place 
allotted  for  that  work.  Think  it  not  cruelt}'  if  you 
are  told  then,  in  answer  to  your  agonizing  inquiries, 
yours  is  an  almost  hopeless  case.  For  when  God. 
says  that  without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  His 
face,  and  promises  eternal  life  only  to  those  who  "by 
patient  continuance  in  well-doing  seek  for  glory, 
honour  and  immortality,"  no  man  ought  to  say,  no 
man  can  say,  that  the  penitent  of  an  hour,  or  a  day, 
is  in  a  state  of  salvation.  And  in  such  cases  to  speak 
of  the  certainty  of  salvation,  is  all  but  making  our 
blessed  Lord  a  minister  of  sin.  These  thincrs  are  not 
said  to  cast  gloom  over  the  past,  or  doubt  over  the 
dead.  God  alone  is  our  judge.  But  to  incite  every 
impenitent  person  here,  in  the  view  of  the  indispen- 
sable necessity  of  personal  holiness,  to  begin,  this 
very  day,  the  great  work  of  inward,  spiritual  salva- 
tion. And  may  we  all,  my  brethren,  whether  stand- 
ing by  grace,  or  mercifully  recovering  from  a  long 
course  of  sin,  or  rising  from  a  temporary  fall;  while 
we  thankfully  read  over  the  Cross — "  Mercy  for  the 
past,"  keep  in  mind  that  it  bears  too  the  solemn  in- 
scription— written  as  it  were  in  letters  of  blood — "Ho- 
linessfor  the  future.'''' 


SERMON  VII. 


RECOGNITION  OF  FRIENDS  IN  THE  WORLD  OF 
SPIRITS. 

I  shall  go  to  him,  but  he  shall  not  return  to  me. 

2  Samdel  xii.  part  of  23d. 

Strong  as  may  be  the  curiosity  existing  in  us  all  to 
wring  the  secrets  of  the  unseen  world  from  the  dumb 
future,  the  sanctified  mind  will  always  rest  contented 
with  the  delightful  assurance,  that  though  it  doth 
not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be,  yet  when  Christ 
shall  appear,  "  we  shall  be  like  Him,  for  we  shall  see 
Him  as  He  is."  Yet  there  is  one  question  connected 
with  our  future  existence,  to  which  affection,  ever 
prone  to  hope,  still  demands  an  answer;  and  will  not 
turn  away  unsatisfied.  I  mean,  the  question  relating 
to  knowing  and  loving  again  our  departed  friends  in 
Christ,  in  the  world  to  come.  That  most  of  us  enter- 
tain a  general  notion  that  it  will  be  so,  is  undoubtedly 
a  fact,  but  there  are  but  few  who  could  give  a  reason 
for  the  hope,  in  the  seasons  when  we  most  need  such 
a  hope  to  stay  the  drooping  spirit :  when  we  watch 
by  the  bed-side  of  some  pale,  meek  sufferer,  fast  pass- 
ing from  life ;  when  we  stand  by  the  closing  grave  of 
our  heart's  best  beloved;  when,  ''in  thoughts  from 
the  visions  of  the  night,"  the  memory  of  the  loved 
and  lost  rekindles  the  fires  of  old  affections,  and  we 
begin  to  fear  that  we  have  been  cherishing  a  fond 


RECOGNITION    OF    FRIENDS  97 

dream  of  fancy,  instead  of  embracing  a  sober  truth 
clearly  deducible  from  the  blessed  Book  of  Life — that 
our  wish,  and  not  reason,  is  "father  to  the  thought" 
that  has  cheered  so  many  death-beds,  and  that  sheds 
this  moment  its  gleam  of  light  on  all  the  sepulchres 
by  our  side.  I  am  sure  that  no  one  here  will  deem 
a  few  moments  mis-spent,  in  the  investigation  of  this 
subject;  for  there  can  hardly  be  one  here  who  has 
not  some  dear  friend  or  kinsman  asleep  in  the  Lord, 
whom  he  longs  to  meet  again ;  and  God  alone  knows 
how  soon  we  shall  all  need  such  a  hope,  to  mitigate 
the  bitterness  of  another  parting.  There  are,  it  is 
true,  a  set  of  dogmatists,  who  charge  all  who  venture 
in  the  pulpit  to  depart  from  one  unvarying  set  of  sub- 
jects, defined  by  them,  as  essential  truths,  with  being 
unevangelical.  But  the  Christian,  who  know^s  the 
richness  and  variety  of  God's  written  word,  and  re- 
members that  it  is  all  profitable  for  doctrine  and  in- 
struction in  righteousness,  will  not  be  afraid  to  bring 
forward  any  topic  suitable  for  public  instruction,  if 
he  find  it  clearly  contained  in,  or  proveable  from,  that 
unerring  record.  Besides,  if  it  be  a  fact  that  we  are 
in  the  next  world  to  know  and  continue  to  love  our 
pious  relations  and  friends,  it  is  one  which  God,  in 
his  good  providence,  may  use  for  the  conversion  of 
the  impenitent;  and  so  it  is  a  subject  of  practical  im- 
portance. Indeed,  there  are  some  instances  which 
show  that  the  desire  of  being  united  in  heaven  to  those 
loved  on  earth  has  been  the  means,  under  God,  of 
leading  lost  souls  away  from  the  paths  of  sin  and 
death.  Not  that  influenced  by  such  a  motive  alone, 
a  man  could  ever  attain  unto  the  righteousness  which 

13 


98  RECOGNITION    OF    FRIENDS 

is  by  faith.  But  a  man  may  begin  a  certain  course 
of  conduct  from  a  lower,  and  afterwards  continue  to 
pursue  the  same  course  from  a  much  higher,  motive. 
A  flower  or  a  bird  may  attract  the  truant  school-boy 
a  little  w^ay  up  the  mountain's  side,  when  his  eye 
will  be  caught  by  the  magnificent  prospect  spreading 
around  him,  and  he  will  seek  its  loftiest  peak.  So 
may  the  soul  of  man  be  attracted  above  the  enthral- 
ments  of  sin  by  the  loss  of  a  deceased  friend  in  the 
Lord,  and  thus  be  brought  within  the  sphere  of  the 
attraction  of  the  love  of  Christ ;  and  then,  though  be- 
ginning with  the  love  of  the  creature,  go  on,  from  pure 
love  to  the  good  and  holy  Creator,  in  the  path  of 
eternal  assimilation  to  His  glorious  image.  Viewing 
then,  the  consolations  to  be  derived  from  this  truth, 
(if  truth  it  indeed  be,)  to  those  who  have  been  be- 
reaved of  pious  friends,  and  the  influence  which  it 
may  exert  in  leading  some  wandering  sinner  to  God; 
let  us  examine  very  briefly  the  arguments  from  rev- 
elation and  reason,  which  may  be  brought  to  prove 
that  we  are  to  know  and  love  our  friends  in  heaven. 
Of  course,  there  cannot  be  here  a  full  or  formal  state- 
ment or  defence  of  all  the  reasons  which  could  be 
brought.  A  very  few  must  suffice  to-day;  and  one 
or  two  common  objections  will  come  under  notice. 

It  may  be  admitted,  if  any  one  demand  the  admis- 
sion, that  this  truth  is  no  where  formally  declared  in 
the  Bible.  But  this  is  no  evidence  that  it  is  not  to 
be  found  there.  The  same  remark  holds  good  of 
some  very  important  truths  of  revelation;  which, 
though  they  can  be  plainly  collected  and  gathered 
from  its  various  parts,  are  not  formally  stated  in  any 


IN    THE    WORLD    OF    SPIRITS.  99 

one  place.  The  Scriptures,  from  their  various  allu- 
sions to  the  subject  under  consideration,  evidently 
take  its  truth  as  acknowledged.  Now  the  first  ar- 
gument from  Scripture  is  drawn  from  our  Saviour's 
conversation  with  the  Sadducees,  recorded  in  three 
of  the  four  Gospels,  in  the  course  of  which  they  put 
to  Him  the  case  of  the  wife  of  the  seven  brethren  ;  in 
the  hope  of  thus  showing  the  absurdity  of  the  Avhole 
doctrine  of  a  resurrection  from  the  dead.  From  the 
record  of  this  conversation,  we  may  safely  infer  that 
the  Jews,  in  our  Saviour's  time,  with  the  exception 
of  the  Sadducees,  who  denied  any  resurection,  believed 
that  the  spirits  of  the  departed  would  know  and  love 
each  other.  Now  if  this  was  a  false  notion,  our  Sa- 
viour certainly  would  have  proved  or  alluded  to  its 
unsoundness,  at  that  very  time.  He  corrected  one 
wTong  notion  advanced,  by  telling  them  that  the 
marriage  relation  was  to  cease  with  this  life.  But  if 
it  is  untrue  that  we  are  to  know  and  love  our  pious 
friends  in  the  world  of  spirits,  our  Saviour  instead 
of  saying,  that  ''in  the  resurrection  they  will  neither 
marry  nor  give  in  marriage,"  would  surely  have  said, 
that  they  wdio  had  known  and  loved  each  other  on 
earth,  would  altogether  cease  to  know  and  love,  in  the 
resurrection.  It  must  be  granted,  that  our  Saviour 
has  admitted  the  truth  of  this  matter,  by  his  silence, 
at  a  time  when  he  was  especially  engaged  in  correct- 
ing wrong  views  of  the  whole  subject  of  the  future 
life. 

The  words  selected  for  a  text  clearly  show%  that  the 
sweet  Psalmist  of  Israel  believed  in  this  doctrine  and 
rejoiced  for  the  consolation ;  "  I  shall  go  to  him,  but 


100  RECOGNITION   OF   FRIENDS 

he  shall  not  return  to  me."  There  have  been  men  cold 
enough  and  absurd  enough  to  interpret  these  words, 
of  David's  being  buried  in  the  same  sepulchre  vv^ith 
his  child.  But  the  context  proves  the  unsoundness 
of  the  explanation;  since  the  words,  "can  I  bring 
him  back  again,"  evidently  refer  to  a  spiritual,  and 
not  to  a  bodily,  return.  He  could  bear  back,  from  the 
hungry  tomb,  the  little  one,  in  the  pale,  sweet  sleep 
of  death.  But  the  soul,  the  life-giving  spirit,  the 
bitterest  grief  could  not  recal.  So  must  the  words, 
"  I  shall  go  to  him,"  refer  to  a  living,  actual  re-union, 
not  to  a  mingling  of  dust  with  parent  dust.  It  is 
impossible  for  a  moment  to  suppose,  that  a  man  of 
king  David's  sympathies  and  affections,  and  sublime 
views  of  God,  and  of  heaven,  could  sit  down,  in  the 
hour  of  his  bereavement,  and  comfort  himself  with 
the  cold  hope,  that  he  should  be  buried  with  his 
child;  or  the  truism  that  he  also  must  die.  No: 
he  must  have  clung  to  the  hope,  that  he  should  after 
death  be  re-united  to  his  child,  that  the  affection 
hardly  commenced  on  earth,  should  be  revived  in 
heaven,  when  that  little  spark  of  life,  that  gleamed 
but  for  a  moment,  rekindled  above,  should  beam 
among  the  righteous,  shining  forth  "  as  the  sun,  in 
the  Kingdom  of  the  Father." 

In  the  14th  Chapter  of  Isaiah,  the  King  of  Babylon 
is  represented,  as  descending  into  the  place  of  departed 
spirits,  and  being  recognized  by  the  deceased  kings 
and  mighty  men,  who  rise  from  their  shadowy  thrones, 
to  welcome  him  to  the  orrira  abode,  exclaiminof — "  Art 
thou  also  become  as  weak  as  we  ?  Art  thou  become 
like  one  of  us?"     And,  in  one  of  our  Saviour's  pa- 


IN    THE    WORLD    OF    SPIRITS.  101 

rabies,  the  rich  man,  Lazarus  and  Abraham  are 
described,  as  knowing  and  conversing  with  each  other. 
Now  note,  these  two  passages  should  not  be  brought 
directly  to  prove  the  point  we  labour  to  establish; 
but  they  certainly  do  show,  what  was  the  common 
opinion,  both  in  the  times  of  Isaiah  and  our  Saviour: 
and  we  can  hardly  think  that  such  an  opinion  would 
ever  be  treated  as  true,  in  God's  word,  if  it  were 
false. 

Our  Lord  tells  the  wicked  Jews,  that  as  they  are 
forever  departing  from  heaven,  into  outer  dark- 
ness, they  will  catch  glimpses  of  the  old  patriarchs 
and  prophets,  entering  into  felicity;  while  millions 
from  the  four  quarters  of  the  earth,  come  to  sit  down 
with  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  the  Kingdom 
of  God.  Now,  if  the  wicked  are  to  know  patriarchs 
and  prophets,  if  the  good  are  to  rejoice  in  the  com- 
pany of  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  we  are  cer- 
tain that  some  of  the  saints  in  heaven  are  to  be 
known  and  loved,  under  the  same  names  which  they 
had,  and  as  the  same  personages  which  they  were,  on 
earth.  Now,  if  some  are  to  be  so  known  and  loved, 
there  is  every  reason  to  think  that  it  will  be  so  with 
all ;  which  conclusion  is  confirmed  by  certain  pas- 
sages in  the  book  of  Revelation,  in  which  certain 
bodies  of  saints  are  said  to  be  known  as  those  who  had 
passed  through  peculiar  afflictions  on  earth.  And  St. 
Paul  speaks  of  the  living  union  which  is  to  exist  among 
the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect ;  which  could 
hardly  be,  if  they  are  not  to  know  each  other  in  heaven, 
as  the  same  persons  known  on  earth. 

There  are  two  passages  in  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul, 


102  RECOGNITION   OF   FRIENDS 

which  show  that  he  expected  to  know  his  friends  in 
the  world  to  come ;  for  he  tells  the  Colossians  that  he 
labours  to  "  present  every  man  perfect  in  Christ 
Jesus,"  and  the  Thessalonians,  that  they  would  be  his 
"joy,  and  hope,  and  crown  of  rejoicing  in  the  presence 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  at  his  coming:"  evidently 
showing  that  he  confidently  expected  to  know  his 
faithful  converts  at  the  last  day.  And  if  he  is  to  know 
them  at  the  commencement  of  the  future  life,  surely 
that  knowledge  will  continue  through  endless  ages ; 
for  it  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  pious  friends  will, 
for  a  moment,  be  re-united  at  the  day  of  judgment, 
immediately  to  be  separated  again  and  forever. 

But  one  of  the  strongest  passages  upon  the  subject 
is  to  be  found  in  the  fourth  chapter  of  the  first  Epistle 
to  the  Thessalonians ;  where  Christians  are  taught 
not  to  sorrow  as  men  without  hope  for  them  which 
are  asleep,  because  God  will  bring  back  those  who 
sleep  in  Jesus.  The  Apostle  then  goes  on  to  describe 
the  resurrection — that  the  dead  and  the  living  shall 
be  caught  up  together  in  the  clouds,  to  meet  the  Lord 
in  the  air,  to  be  forever  with  the  Lord.  Now  this 
passage  evidently  was  written  for  the  consolation  of 
mourners.  But  what  a  mockery  of  sorrow,  to  tell 
them  that  their  dead  were  living  unto  God,  unless  it 
was  meant  to  convey  the  promise  of  a  blissful  re-union 
to  the  dead  in  Christ.  If  Christians,  relatives  and 
friends,  are  not  to  know  and  love  each  other  in  the 
world  of  spirits,  then  all  the  consolation  we  shall 
ever  have,  with  reference  to  the  departed,  we  have 
now  and  here.  We  know  now  that  they  live  unto 
God:  we  can  know  no  more  in  Eternity.     Even  the 


IN    THE    WORLD    OF    SPIRITS.  103 

religion  of  Christ  must  leave  the  sepulchre  in  gloomy 
shadows.  We  may  know  that  our  dead  are  blest, 
but  to  us  they  are  lost  forever.  But  it  is  not  so, 
Christian  brethren.  We  are  told  not  to  sorrow  without 
hope !  But  the  hope  of  what  ?  That  our  dead  shall 
rise  ?  And  how  can  that  hope  ever  be  fulfilled  unless 
we  meet  them  face  to  face ;  and  know,  even  as  we  have 
known,  them  in  the  time  of  our  mortal  life. 

These  are  the  only  tests  which  wall  now  be  brought 
to  prove  the  point  in  question.  I  think  it  must  be 
admitted,  that  they  all  either  directly  or  indirectly 
prove,  that  we  are  to  know  and  love,  in  the  world  of 
spirits,  those  whom  we  knew  and  loved  on  earth : 
and  that,  taken  together  and  rightly  arranged,  they 
make  a  perfect  chain  of  evidence.  In  addition  to 
these,  there  are  certain  facts  recorded  in  the  Bible, 
which  seem  to  have  a  bearing  upon  this  question. 
The  spirit  of  Samuel  was  known  after  his  death  by 
Saul  and  his  sons;  certain  of  his  saints  arose  after 
Christ's  resurrection,  and  appeared  unto  many  who 
were  enabled  to  know  them ;  and  Moses  and  Elijah 
were  recognized  on  the  mount  of  the  transfiguration, 
by  the  trembling  Apostles,  chosen  to  be  the  compan- 
ions of  our  Lord,  at  that  mysterious  hour.  Now,  if  in 
all  these  visitations  from  the  world  of  spirits,  the 
departed  were  recognized  by  the  living;  is  there  not 
reason  to  believe  that  it  will  be  so,  that  it  is  even 
now  so,  in  the  land  of  souls.  If  Moses  and  Elijah 
were  recognized  by  St.  Peter,  St.  James,  and  St.  John 
here,  is  there  any  reason  for  believing  that  they  are  un- 
known to  each  other  now,  or  that  they  will  be  unknown 
to  each  other,  throughout  eternity  ?  I  would  not  build 


104  RECOGNITION    OF    FRIENDS 

too  strongly  on  such  mysterious  facts  as  these ;  but  they 
certainly  carry  some  weight  of  presumptive  evidence, 
in  favour  of  the  truth  of  the  doctrine  under  discus- 
sion :  and  we  may  safely  infer,  that  as  such  of  the 
departed  saints  as  have  returned  to  earth,  have  been 
recognized,  so  will  all  the  people  of  God,  in  the  life 
to  come,  know  each  other,  even  as  they  are  known. 

In  connection  with  revelation,  reason  can  furnish 
some  arguments  for  the  probability  of  a  recognition 
of  each  other  by  the  departed.  It  should  seem  that 
in  no  more  suitable  way  can  some  of  God's  righteous 
purposes  be  carried  into  effect.  We  are  told  that  the 
eminently  good  are  to  be  eminently  rewarded,  and 
that  openly.  But  how  can  this  be,  unless  they  are 
known  by  their  associates,  and  recognized  as  those 
who  on  earth  were  wise,  and  turned  many  to 
righteousness;  and  now,  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  pro- 
mise, are  shining,  as  the  sun  in  the  firmament,  and  as 
the  stars,  forever  and  forever?  Again,  there  are  nu- 
merous inequalities  of  condition,  and  much  apparent 
injustice  here,  which  are  to  be  corrected  in  the  next 
life.  We  here  too  often  see  virtue  suffering  and 
afflicted,  while  sin  is  in  prosperity;  but  that  is  all 
to  be  reversed  in  the  world  to  come.  But  unless  we 
see  the  virtuous  crowned  with  glory  and  honour  and 
immortality,  how  shall  we  feel  assured  that  God's 
promises  have  been  made  good?  True,  He  can  and 
may  see  fit  to  give  us  that  assurance,  in  some  other 
way.  But  does  it  not  seem  (w^e  speak  with  reve- 
rence) most  conformable  to  the  fitness  of  things,  to 
acquaint  us  with  the  fact,  by  suffering  us  to  know  the 
persons  of  these  holy  men,  and  with  our  own  eyes  to 


IN   THE    WORLD    OF    SPIRITS.  105 

witness  their  unspeakable  blessedness?  And  consider 
in  what  singular  and  peculiar  condition  all  men  will 
be,  if  they  should  not  be  allowed,  in  the  next  life, 
to  recognize  each  other.  We  must  forever  bear  the 
memory  of  the  things  and  scenes  and  persons  of  this 
life ;  but  in  that  case  we  must  bear  them  alone.  We 
shall  go  on  side  by  side  with  millions  and  millions 
of  ransomed,  and  yet  never  look  back  with  them  on 
the  troubles  and  trials  in  which  all  participated  in 
the  passage  through  the  valley  of  tears.  The  faith- 
ful pastor  and  his  beloved  people  will  be  in  heaven 
together;  but  they  can  never  meet  to  rejoice  in  the 
victory  gained  side  by  side  in  the  hour  of  temptation. 
The  blessed  Apostles  will  all  be  around  the  throne  of 
the  Lord,  yet  all  unknown  to  each  other.  Latimer 
and  Ridley  who  were  burned  at  the  same  stake,  and 
up  to  the  last  moment  of  consciousness  cheered  and 
supported  each  other,  by  fervent  prayers  and  bold 
words  of  faith  and  victorious  psalms,  upon  this  sup 
position  have  never  met  since  the  hour  of  their  fiery 
Baptism ;  and  though  now,  as  we  may  well  believe, 
together  in  Paradise,  yet  know  nothing  of  each  other's 
felicity.  Pious  husbands  and  wives,  brothers  and 
sisters,  children  and  parents  who  perished  together, 
in  the  wild  billows,  the  raging  fire,  or  the  wasting- 
pestilence  ;  hoping  and  expecting  to  enter  together 
into  rest,  were  separated  in  the  agony  of  death,  and 
will  know  each  other  no  more  forever.  My  brethren, 
is  not  such  a  supposition  entirely  unreasonable  ?  Can 
we  believe  that  our  affections  were  given  us  to  be 
all  poured  out  here?  Can  we  believe  that  our  mer- 
ciful Creator  would  permit  us  up  to  the  latest  mo- 

14 


106  RECOGNITION    OF    FRIENDS 

ment  of  life  to  love  the  dead  and  to  cherish  their  me- 
mory, if  we  are  never  to  behold  them  again?  The 
old  Philosophers  thought  that  the  soul's  longing  af- 
ter immortality  was  an  evidence  that  it  could  never 
die:  for  they  could  not  think  that  God  would  im- 
plant any  right  desire  in  the  soul,  unless  it  was  His 
intention  to  satisfy  it.  And  may  not  we  as  Chris- 
tians, look  upon  the  intense  longing  that  we  have  for 
a  re-union  to  our  loved  and  lost,  as  a  pledge  that  it 
will  be  so?  Surely,  unless  such  changes  are  to  take 
place  in  our  spiritual  and  physical  constitutions  as 
will  destroy  personal  identity — and  that  such  will  be 
the  case  is  not  in  any  way  probable — we  shall,  if 
ourselves  true  Christians,  when  delivered  from  the 
burden  of  the  flesh  be  re-united,  forever  to  those  dear 
relatives  and  friends  who  have  died  in  the  Lord. 

There  are  tw^o  principal  objections  urged  against 
this  doctrine,  which  it  will  be  necessary  to  notice  in 
passing.  The  first  is,  that  if  we  are  to  recognize  our 
pious  friends  in  the  next  world,  we  shall  also  most  of 
us  be  compelled  to  know  that  other  friends  and  rela- 
tives are  in  outer  darkness,  with  the  devil  and  his 
angels;  which  knowledge  would  impair  the  felicity 
of  heaven.  And  so,  to  get  rid  of  this  difiiculty,  some 
have  maintained  that  at  the  resurrection  we  are  not 
to  recoQfnize  those  whom  w^e  have  knowm  and  loved 
in  this  life.  My  brethren,  let  the  dreadful  thought 
that  some  of  those  near  and  dear  to  us,  may  be 
forever  lost,  quicken  us  like  a  cry  from  the  regions 
where  hope  never  comes,  to  do  all  in  our  power  by 
unceasing  prayer,  by  holy  living,  by  words  instant 
in  season  and  out  of  season,  to  procure  from  God  the 


IN    THE    WORLD    OF    SPIRITS.  107 

conversion  of  every  heart  cherished  by  us,  that  has 
not  been  given  up  to  God.  But  the  knowledge  that 
any  of  our  friends  have  been  lost,  will  not  be  permit- 
ted to  mar  our  heavenly  bliss.  And  even  if  we 
should  not  be  allowed  to  know  each  other  in  the  next 
world,  how  would  this  remedy  the  difficulty  sug- 
gested in  the  objection.  In  that  case  we  should 
not  know  who  of  our  friends  were  or  were  not  saved : 
and  so,  unless  all  interest  in  them  is  to  be  lost,  we 
must  pass  eternity  in  a  fearful  state  of  uncertainty. 
Moreover,  we  shall  know  that  a  part  of  the  human 
family  is  lost ;  and  with  our  present  views,  one  would 
think  that  this  knowledge  would  take  from  our  joy. 
But  those  of  us  who  are  so  happy  as  to  get  to  heaven 
will,  we  may  be  assured,  have  such  clear  views  of 
the  goodness  and  justice  of  God,  in  all  his  ways  and 
works,  that  even  the  eternal  pangs  of  the  finally  im- 
penitent will  not  destroy,  or  even  render  imperfect, 
our  happihess.  This  is  an  awful  topic,  one  to  be  ap- 
proached with  reverence  and  godly  fear,  and  not  to 
be  dwelt  upon  too  long.  Let  the  thoughts  suggested, 
I  may  repeat  the  admonition,  make  us  all  more 
active  in  labouring,  each  in  his  own  order,  for  the 
salvation  of  all  the  persons  in  any  way  under  our 
influence. 

A  second  objection  brought  against  the  doctrine  is, 
that  a  renewal  of  the  affection  between  friends  natu- 
rally following  a  mutual  recognition  in  heaven, 
would  interfere  with  that  supreme  love  to  God,  and 
that  supreme  pleasure  in  his  love  and  presence, 
which  are  to  constitute  the  blessedness  of  the  life  of 
glory.     But  this  is  much  more  easily  asserted  than 


108  RECOGNITION    OF    FRIENDS 

proved.  The  Bible  tells  us  that  we  are  to  love 
others  in  heaven  beside,  or  rather,  with,  in  and 
through  God,  such  as  the  faithful  patriarchs  and  pro- 
phets; and  the  same  scripture  that  speaks  of  our 
union  with  Jesus,  the  Mediator  of  the  new  covenant, 
and  with  God  the  Judge  of  all,  speaks  too  of  our 
present  and  future  fellowship  with  angels,  with  the 
Church  of  the  first  born,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect.  And  surely  the  love  to  our  pious  rela- 
tions and  friends  can  no  more  interfere  with  our  love 
and  duty  to  God,  than  our  love  to  other  holy  men,  or 
to  angels.  Besides,  the  objection  seems  to  be  founded 
in  false  views  of  God's  requirements  of  us,  and  of  the 
nature  of  the  love  of  God.  God  does  not  demand 
our  supreme  affections  to  increase  his  own  hap- 
piness, which  nothing  can  either  increase  or  dimi- 
nish ;  but  to  make  us  blessed.  And  who  loves  man 
best  in  this  world?  The  man  who  loves  God  most. 
And  who  loves  his  relations  and  friends  most?  The 
true  Christian.  And  who  is  he  described  in  the 
Bible  as  destitute  of  natural  affection?  The  un- 
godly and  the  impious.  And  so  will  it  be  in  the  life 
to  come.  St.  John  exhorts  us,  not  to  cease  loving 
all  but  our  God,  but  to  love  one  another,  "for  love  is 
of  God."  And  as  the  principle  of  godly  love  is  the 
same  now  that  it  will  be  forever,  for  "  charity  never 
faileth,"  we  may  be  assured  that  love  to  all  the  saints 
will  be  in  heaven,  as  it  is  upon  earth,  a  necessary  part 
of  supreme  love  to  our  Maker.  And  what  a  sublime 
and  touching  thought  it  is,  that  the  soul,  though 
forever  increasing  in  love  to  the  infinite  God,  and 
embracing  in  the  purest  friendship,  all  holy  intelli- 


IN    THE    WORLD    OF    SPIRITS.  109 

gences  in  the  universe,  from  the  archangel  veiling 
his  radiant  brow  in  the  dazzling  glory  of  the  imme- 
diate presence  of  the  Lord  of  lords,  down  to  the 
least  of  all  the  saints,  will  nevertheless  cherish  with 
intense  affection  those  who  grew  up  with  it  around 
the  same  fireside,  knelt  with  it  at  the  same  altar, 
shared  with  it  the  changes  and  chances,  the  lights 
and  shadows  of  life,  or  soothed  with  kindly  attention 
the  painful  bed  of  death ! 

Standing,  then,  upon  the  foundation  of  God's  word, 
the  minister  of  Christ  may  proclaim  this  doctrine  full 
of  hope,  that  pious  friends  will  know  and  love  each 
other  in  the  life  to  come ;  and  may  thus  be  furnished 
with  a  new  motive  to  repentance,  another  reason  for 
progress  in  holiness,  and  the  most  cheering  consola- 
tion for  pious  mourners  for  the  dead  in  Christ. 

This  truth  which  has  just  been  defended  furnishes 
to  the  impenitent  and  unconverted,  who  have  pious 
friends,  either  living  or  dead,  anew  motive  to  repent- 
ance. In  almost  every  family  there  exists  a  diversity 
of  feeling  and  conduct  about  the  one  thing  needful, 
true  religion ;  some  serving  and  loving  God,  some 
disobeying  and  hating,  or  totally  indifferent  to  Him. 
My  brethren,  some  of  you  are  living  either  as  rela- 
tives or  friends,  in  habits  of  intimacy  and  sincere 
affection,  with  those  whose  principles  of  action,  whose 
wills  and  hearts,  are  very  different  from  yours.  They 
have  chosen  the  "better  part;"  you  are  neglecting 
the  "  great  salvation."  And  now,  I  beseech  you, 
when  in  the  happy  family  circle,  or  in  the  society  of 
such  friends,  to  pause  and  calmly  reflect,  that  you 
are  going  on  in  such  a  course,  that  in  a  few  years. 


110  RECOGNITION    OF    FRIENDS 

at  the  most,  you  must  be  forever  separated  from  the 
companions  of  your  daily  walk,  and  the  partakers  of 
your  best  affections.  In  a  little  while,  they  will  cease 
— it  must  be  so  in  heaven,  where  a  thought  of  im- 
purity cannot  enter — to  love  you ;  and  you  will  go 
away  into  outer  darkness,  treasuring  up  forever  a 
bitter  remembrance  of  that  sweet  communion  with 
them,  which  was  once  yours,  which  might  ever  have 
been  yours,  which  ijou  can  taste  never,  never  again ! 
May  this  thought  bring  you  to  God  !  May  this  re- 
flection lead  you  to  know  how  infinitely  dreadful  it 
will  be  to  be  banished  from  your  Saviour's  presence 
to  return  no  more ;  or  to  cease  to  share  that  love 
which  passeth  knowledge;  rich  enough  to  overflow 
the  hearts  of  all  men,  poor  enough  to  be  rejected  by 
the  great  part  of  a  redeemed  world!  Or  there  may 
be  some  here  leading  ungodly  or  worldly  lives,  chil- 
dren of  parents  passed  into  the  skies,  or  parents  of 
little  ones  who  died  in  their  sinless  infancy,  in  whose 
hearts  dried  up  in  the  ways  of  sin  and  the  world,  a 
love  for  the  departed  is  the  only  un withered  thing. 
And  do  you  long  to  behold  them  once  again?  Unless 
you  sincerely  and  solemnly  and  deeply  repent,  your 
eyes  will  never  be  so  blessed.  Or  you  will  catch  but 
a  faint  glimpse  of  them,  as  they  pass  from  the  right 
hand  of  the  judgment  seat,  following  Christ  into  his 
glory  ;  while  you  are  hurried  away  with  despairing 
throngs,  into  everlasting  punishment.  Son,  who 
will  not  listen  to  the  voice  of  God,  hear  from  the  cold 
grave  the  voice  of  the  mother  who  prayed  for  you, 
and  repent.  Parent,  exhorted  again  and  again  to  be 
saved,  in  all  the  appointed  ways,  and  entreated  in 


IN   THE    WORLD   OF    SPIRITS.  Ill 

vain,  shall  the  love  of  the  little  one,  taken  from  you 
to  a  better  Parent  have  no  povv^er  to  draw  your  heart, 
to  heaven  ?  Are  you  unwiUing  to  entrust  yourself  to 
Him  who  has  your  dearest  treasure  ? 

And,  brethren,  those  of  us  who  are  so  happy  as  to 
have  a  good  hope,  through  grace,  of  meeting,  our 
loved  and  lost  in  the  world  of  spirits,  have  in  this 
hope  a  strong  incitement  to  be  dihgent  in  the  work 
of  sanctification,  another  reason  for  progress  in  holi- 
ness. They  whom  we  mourn,  and  to  whom  we  hope 
to  be  re-united,  are  beyond  the  reach  of  sin;  they  have 
awaked  up  after  the  likeness  of  God  and  are  satisfied 
with  it.  If  we  expect  to  renew  our  friendship  with 
them,  we  must  try  to  do  like  them;  for  in  heaven  those 
most  like  to  God  will  be  nearest  to  Him,  and  those 
nearest  to  Him  will  be  nearest  and  dearest  to  each 
other.  Strive  we,  then,  to  purify  ourselves  from  every 
spot  of  sin,  that  through  the  blood  of  Christ,  we  all 
may  be  made  meet  partakers  of  the  inheritance  of  the 
saints  in  light.  Or,  when  enticed  to  do  wrong,  or  when 
in  the  stir  of  busy  life  our  better  feelings,  our  affec- 
tions for  the  pious  dead,  are  in  danger  of  being  dried 
up ;  call  we  to  mind,  their  pure  and  changeless  affec- 
tion for  us  :  and  ask  how  w^e  could  bear  to  leave  them 
unchanged,  and  pure,  behold  aught  of  change  or  sin 
in  us.  Such  a  thought,  by  the  grace  of  God,  may 
prove  a  strong  shield  in  the  day  of  temptation,  and 
bring  us  at  the  last  to  sit  down  side  by  side  in  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  with  those  beloved  friends  who 
have  entered  before  us  into  rest. 

Lastly,  what'  words  can  convey  the  consolation 
afforded  by  our  subject  to  pious  mourners  for  the 


112  RECOGNITION    OF    FRIENDS 

dead  in  Christ?  It  is  better  to  leave  it  by  its  still 
and  holy  and  soothing  influence  to  heal  the  broken 
heart  of  the  Christian,  sorrowing  but  not  without 
hope  for  his  dead.  It  must  ever  wring  the  heart  to 
commit  its  treasures^  *'dust  to  dust."  But  with  this 
hope,  what  a  different  appearance  is  given  to  the  tomb! 
It  must  ever  be  for  weak  human  nature  a  dread  and 
awful  thing  to  die.  But  how  will  it  rob  death  of  its 
pangs  and  tears,  to  know  that  father  and  mother, 
brothers  and  sisters,  children  and  friends  will  receive 
us  at  the  gate  of  paradise  !  Oh,  what  a  moment  it 
will  be  when  friends  recognizing  friends  come  to- 
gether forever !  The  weary  sick  bed  and  the  agony 
of  the  long  last  look,  the  gloom  of  the  house  of  death, 
the  mournful  pageantry  of  the  funeral  will  fade  away 
from  remembrance,  when  the  eye  whose  last  glare 
was  soulless  and  without  meaning,  shall  beam  upon 
us  as  of  old,  and  the  hand  that  when  last  touched 
was  cold  and  motionless,  shall  return  with  its  wonted 
warmth  the  kindly  pressure  of  friendship.  Mourner 
for  the  dead  in  Christ,  weep  with  your  Saviour ; 
^or  they  shall  not  return  to  you  !  Mourner  for  the 
dead  in  Christ,  be  joyful  in  your  risen  Lord;  for  you 
shall  go  to  them  ! 


SERMON  VIII. 

IDOLATRY  AMONG  CHRISTIANS. 

Every  man  of  the  house  of  Israel  that  setteth  up  his  idols  in  hia 
heart,  and  putteth  the  stumbling  block  of  his  iniquity  before  his 
face,  and  cometh  to  the  prophet,  I  the  Lord  will  answer  him  that 
Cometh  according  to  the  multitude  of  his  idols. 

EzEKiEL  14,  part  of  the  4th  verse. 

The  sin  reproved  in  these  words  of  the  prophet  to 
elders  of  Israel,  is  by  no  means  an  uncommon  one 
with  men.  In  all  ages  of  the  Church,  and  under 
both  dispensations,  there  have  been  worshippers  of 
God,  of  whom  the  Lord  thus  solemnly  complains  to 
His  servant,  "They  come  unto  thee  as  the  people 
cometh,  and  they  sit  before  thee  as  my  people,  and 
they  hear  thy  words  but  they  will  not  do  them :  for 
with  their  mouth  they  show  much  love,  but  their 
heart  goeth  after  their  covetousness."  This  sin, 
then,  being  a  common  one,  may  well  employ  our  at- 
tention for  a  few  moments,  this  evening;  for  it  may 
be  feared  that  some  of  us  have  just  engaged  in  our 
solemn  service  having  idols  set  up  in  our  hearts,  or 
bearing  along  with  us  to  the  footstool  of  the  Holy 
One  a  burden  of  iniquity  from  which  we  have  no  de- 
sire to  be  delivered.  If  so,  let  it  be  remembered, 
that  our  prayers  will  never  mount  up  to  heaven ;  or 
if  they  ascend  there,  will  return,  swift  messengers  of 
wrath,  to  blast  us  forever.     It  will  be  seen  in  the  re- 

15 


114  IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS. 

marks  now  to  be  offered  upon  this  passage  of  God's 
word,  what  the  precise  sin  is,  which  is  here  pointed 
out;  also,  the  way  in  which  the  elect  people  of  God 
commit  the  same  sin  at  present ;  and  the  nature  of 
the  punishment  threatened,  in  the  concluding  words 
of  the  text. 

The  elders  of  Israel,  to  whom  the  words  now  un- 
der consideration  were  first  addressed,  come  to  the 
prophet  Ezekiel,  to  inquire  of  him,  or  rather  to  ask 
counsel  of  the  Lord,  through  the  prophet,  concern- 
ing the  calamities  which  threatened  Jerusalem.  But 
the  law  of  God  made  this  their  bounden  duty,  and 
so  the  sinfulness  of  the  act  consisted  not  in  its  mere 
performance.  Nor  had  these  elders  openly  or  secret- 
ly renounced  the  service  of  God;  but  along  with 
God  they  had  associated  Baalim  and  Ashtaroth,  as 
objects  of  worship.  And  it  was  this  union,  or  this 
attempt  at  a  union,  between  the  true  God  and  idols, 
that  made  their  coming  to  inquire  of  the  Lord  so 
abominable  in  His  sight.  Then  too,  they  not  only 
had  set  up  these  idols  in  their  heart,  but  they  had 
put  the  stumbling-block  of  their  iniquity  before  their 
face;  they  came  boldly  up  before  the  Lord  without 
taking  any  pains  to  give  up  their  sins,  and  without 
any  intention  so  to  do.  They  came  from  their  idols' 
temples  to  inquire  of  the  Lord,  and  then  they  meant 
to  return  to  their  rebellion.  They  paused,  as  it  w^ere, 
in  the  midst  of  their  wickedness,  to  increase  its  hein- 
ousness  and  guilt,  by  asking  counsel  of  the  Lord, 
against  'whom  they  had  so  grievously  sinned;  and 
against  whom  it  was  their  deliberate  intention  to  goon 
sinning.    And  lastly,  they  came  before  the  Lord,  not  in 


IDOLATRY    AMONG   CHRISTIANS.  115 

answer  to  His  requirement,  but  driven  by  intense  fear. 
Famine  and  fire,  pestilence  and  sword,  were  about 
them ;  and  so  they  snatched  up  their  idols,  and  pres- 
sing them  to  their  hearts,  came,  trembling  and  afraid, 
to  Jehovah,  to  ask  His  assistance  and  direction,  to  ask 
Him  to  countenance  them  in  their  impiety,  to  protect 
them  in  their  idolatry,  to  give  them  life  and  liberty, 
that  they  might  employ  them  in  sin !  I  think  you 
now  see  plainly  the  nature  of  the  offence  reproved 
by  the  prophet. 

It  was  said  that  the  same  sin  has  abounded  in  all 
ages ;  and  so,  of  course  it  exists  in  our  own  :  and  I 
think  that  a  little  consideration  will  convince  us  of 
the  fact.  The  sinfulness  of  idolatry  consists  in  the 
giving  to  idols,  or  to  any  objects  regarded  as  gods, 
that  homage,  worship  and  service  which  are  due  to 
the  Creator  and  Source  of  all  things.  It  will  be 
generally  allowed  that  this  sin  of  idolatry  may  be 
committed,  and,  alas !  is  committed  amongst  us,  by 
giving  to  any  created  object  or  thing,  those  affec- 
tions, which  rightly  belong  to  God.  Well  then,  any 
man  so  regarding  anything  in  this  world,  that  he  is 
prevented  from  loving  God  supremely,  and  still  at- 
tempting to  serve  God  while  he  gives  his  affections 
supremely  to  some  other  object;  or  any  man  attempt- 
ing to  worship  God  while  he  wilfully  and  habitually 
clings  to  any  one  sin ;  is  guilty  of  the  iniquity  of  in- 
quiring of  the  Lord,  while  idols  reign  in  his  heart, 
and  iniquity  is  borne  unblushing  on  his  brow.  With 
this  general  statement  of  the  nature  of  the  sin  before 
us  we  may  profitably  come  down  to  particulars,  and 
see  what  sorts  oi  people  commit  this  great  sin,  and 


116  IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS. 

under  what  circumstances  it  is  sometimes  committed. 
And  here  let  it  be  remarked  that  some  persons  are 
guilty  of  this  crime  who  are  utterly  unconscious  of 
it;  they  are  so  deluded  that  they  have  no  idea  that 
their  religion  is  a  horrible  mockery.  So  that  others 
besides  the  conscious  hypocrite  may  be  prepared  to 
examine  themselves  touching  this  great  sin.  It  may 
astonish  you  to  hear,  but  it  is  nevertheless  a  fact,  that 
some  notoriously  wicked  persons  have  been  regular 
and  constant  in  their  private  devotions,  and  apparent- 
ly without  being  conscious  of  the  inconsistency  of 
their  daily  lives  with  their  daily  prayers.  On  cer- 
tain sea-coasts  the  rude  inhabitants  are  wont  to  come 
on  shore  during  a  storm,  to  watch  for  vessels ;  and  if 
any  be  descried,  they  engage  devoutly  in  supplica- 
tion to  the  God  of  storms,  that  it  may  please  Him  to 
cast  them  on  their  coasts,  that  they  may  be  enriched 
by  the  plunder.  I  mention  these  extraordinary  cases 
to  show  how  strongly  and  fearfully  the  human 
heart  does  sometimes  deceive  itself  about  its  state 
with  God. 

Every  inconsistent  follower  of  Christ  is  guilty  of 
this  sin  of  serving  the  Lord  with  idols  set  up  in  the 
heart.  Persons  who  come  to  the  communion,  for 
instance,  profess  not  to  think  themselves  better  than 
other  men ;  on  the  contrary,  they  thus  avow  them- 
selves frail  and  lost  sinners  who  need  free  grace,  and 
an  all-sufficient  Saviour.  But  they  do  profess  to  hate 
sin,  to  desire  to  forsake  it  utterly,  and  to  become 
wholly  sanctified.  If  then  any  communicant  is  living 
in  habitual  sin  of  any  kind,  he  comes  before  the  Lord 
with  his  iniquity  and  his  idols.     And  surely  his  sin 


IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS.  117 

is  far  greater  in  degree  than  that  of  the  elders  of 
Israel :  for  he  comes  to  the  Saviour  of  sinners — to 
Him  who  was  once  bowed  with  the  burden  of  our 
sins — that  he  may  cause  Him  to  bleed  afresh,  and 
undergo  again  the  tortures  of  the  Cross. 

Persons  who  repent,  or  think  that  they  repent,  in 
sickness,  are  too  often  guilty  of  the  same  sin.  There 
are  but  few  so  hardened  that  they  can  view  the  ap- 
proach of  death  unmoved.  The  fierce  storm  of  the 
waves  rushing  in  upon  the  strained  vessel,  brings 
prayer  to  lips  which  had  just  given  vent  to  curses 
and  imprecations.  A  few  weeks  of  sickness  seldom 
fail  to  correct  the  wildest  and  wickedest  profligate 
into  a  trembling  penitent.  But  how  many  such  peni- 
tents come  to  the  Lord  with  idols  in  their  hearts,  and 
sin  on  their  forehead !  The  fear  of  death  has  stilled 
the  clamour  of  lusts  and  passions  for  a  season,  and 
that  fear  brings  the  man  to  Him  in  whose  hands  are 
life  and  death.  But  his  prayers  are  chiefly  for  life, 
for  health  and  strength.  True,  he  does  speak  of  sor- 
row for  past  sins.  He  does  speak  of  pardon,  through 
the  blood  of  Christ.  But  the  grave  is  open  at  his 
feet;  and  he  is  reasonable  enough  to  expect  a  fearful 
retribution  if  it  closes  upon  him  unforgiven.  A  few 
more  weeks  pass  on.  The  manly  limbs  receive  fresh 
strength.  The  cheek  is  again  suffused  with  the  glow 
of  health.  And  he  springs  from  his  couch,  to  com- 
mence anew  his  career  of  vice  and  profanity.  Where 
now  are  his  prayers?  Where  now  his  solemn  vows? 
That  man  came  to  the  Lord  through  fear,  with  sin 
unsubdued  in  his  heart.  He  has  been  answered  ac- 
cordins  to  his  idols. 


118  IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS. 

Persons  who  come  to  the  Lord,  having  an  inordi- 
nate love  of  pleasure  or  riches,  always  come  with 
idols  in  their  hearts.  When  they  pray,  their  prayers 
are  chiefly  for  the  increase  of  those  very  things  which 
interfere  with  their  duty  to  God.  When  they  say, 
"give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread ;"  they  think  rather 
of"  the  meat  that  perisheth,"  than  of  "  the  true  bread 
which  Cometh  down  from  heaven."  When  they  say, 
"deliver  us  from  evil;"  they  wish  to  be  kept  rather 
from  bodily  harm  and  earthly  losses,  than  from  the 
only  real  evil,  sin.  Sometimes  a  man  makes  a  sort 
of  covenant  with  himself,  that  he  will  partially  serve 
the  Lord,  until  he  has  acquired  a  certain  amount  of 
this  world's  good,  and  then  he  will  give  himself 
wholly  up  to  His  service.  In  this  case,  precisely 
the  same  sin  is  committed  as  that  of  which  the  Jew- 
ish elders  were  guilty.  They  came  to  the  Lord, 
meaning  still  to  worship  Moloch  and  Thammuz. 
This  man  goes  to  Church,  says  his  prayers,  observes 
some  outward  precepts  of  morality,  meaning  to  de- 
vote his  heart  to  the  lusts  of  pleasure  and  riches. 

We  may  gather,  then,  from  what  has  been  said, 
that  every  professional  Christian  who  clings  to  any 
sin,  who  loves  any  being  or  thing  better  than  God, 
whether  parents,  or  children,  or  friends,  or  pleasure, 
or  fame,  is  guilty  of  the  sin  of  which  I  have  been 
speaking.  My  dear  brethren,  examine  yourselves 
very  seriously  as  to  this  point,  whether  there  be  any 
idols  in  your  hearts — any  unforsaken  sins  before 
your  face.  You  serve  the  Lord.  Why  do  you  serve 
Him?  Is  it  for  any  selfish  purpose?  Is  it  from  a 
sincere  desire  to  do  what  is  risrht?     Remember  that 


IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS.  119 

common  truth,  that  God  sees  the  heart;  that  you 
cannot  deceive  Him.  Better  never  pray,  than  pray 
in  wilful  sin.  Better  never  commune,  than  com- 
mune with  the  intention  of  breaking  the  solemn 
covenant  there  renewed.  Better,  I  had  almost  said, 
go  honestly  into  the  ranks  of  sin  and  Satan,  than  to 
walk  with  the  followers,  and  in  the  garb,  of  Christ 
to  the  end  of  the  world;  and  then  to  be  shamefully 
exposed,  as  hypocrites,  before  men  and  angels. 

The  nature  of  the  punishment  denounced  against 
this  sin  is  well  worthy  of  consideration.  "I  the 
Lord  will  answer  him  that  cometh  according:  to  the 
multitude  of  his  idols."  This  may  be  explained  in 
two  ways.  It  either  means  that  on  account  of  the 
idols,  God  will  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  prayer  of  the 
idolater ;  or  that  he  will  give  him  up  to  the  desires, 
wishes  and  delusions  of  his  deceived  and  wicked 
heart.  God  undoubtedly  punishes  such  worshippers 
in  both  ways.  Some  hypocrites  and  self-deceivers 
never  seem  to  have  their  prayers  answered.  The 
words  die  on  the  cold  lips,  and  the  petition  is  forgot- 
ten by  the  suppliant ;  although  it  is  recorded  in  His 
book,  to  whom  the  prayer  of  the  wicked  is  an  abomi- 
nation. Others  more  wicked,  more  bent,  as  it  should 
seem,  upon  the  service  of  their  idols,  have  their 
requests  fearfully  granted.  They  are  answered  "  ac- 
cording to  the  multitude  of  their  idols  !"  That  sick 
profligate  asks  for  health  rather  than  holiness;  for 
the  love  of  sin  lurks  in  his  unpurified  heart.  God 
hears  his  prayer.  Health  re-invigorates  his  frame, 
and  he  uses  it  to  work  out  his  everlasting  destruction. 
That  avaricious  man  prays  for  property.     He  knows 


120  IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS. 

his  liability  to  covetousness.  He  knows  that  money 
may  be  his  ruin.  He  receives  many  kind  admoni- 
tions to  forbear.  But  no  !  his  heart  is  set  upon  his 
idol.  At  last,  God  answers  him  according  to  his  idoL 
Wealth  pours  upon  him  and  he  still  grasps  at  more. 
Perhaps  the'  next  time  he  prays  sincerely  to  God  is 
in  that  place  from  which  God  refuses  to  hear  prayer. 
The  affection  of  a  human  being  may  be  earnestly  de- 
sired :  and  prayer  is  put  up  that  it  may  be  obtained. 
Well,  it  is  proper  to  seek  affection.  It  is  right  to 
make  known  all  our  wants  to  God.  But  such  a  thing 
may  be  prayed  for  without  the  spirit,  "  Not  my 
will  but  Thine  be  done."  Sought  though  without 
such  a  spirit  the  object  may  be  granted ;  and  then  a 
soul,  made  for  the  enjoyment  of  God,  rests  satisfied 
with  the  possession  of  a  creature.  Rests  satisfied  ? 
No,  that  cannot  be.  But  it  will  not  feel  its  wants 
until  that  beautiful  morning,  when  the  children  of 
God  shall  awake  up  satisfied  in  His  likeness,  and 
then  they  can  never  be  appeased.  In  its  eternal  des- 
titution that  soul  will  look  back  upon  the  objects  of 
its  adoration  and  see  that  it  was  answered  according 
to  the  multitude  of  its  idols.  We  have  read  of  per- 
sons bent  on  murder  who  prayed  for  the  approach  of 
their  victims.  And  it  may  be  that  that  wonderful 
man  who  in  the  early  part  of  the  present  century 
made  Europe  a  battle  field,  sometimes  awoke  from 
his  wild  dreams  of  ambition,  to'pray  to  God,  that  they 
might  be  realized.  If  so,  surely  he  was  answered 
according  to  the  multitude  of  his  idols  :  and  it  was  a 
fearful  answer.  Grandeur,  glory,  empire — and  then 
shame,  defeat,  the  loss  of  all  things,  contempt,  exile, 


IDOLATRY    AMONG    CHRISTIANS.  121 

and  the  guilt  of  the  blood  of  millions  upon  his  sink- 
ing head.  I  presume  not  to  say  that  the  blood  of 
Christ,  has  not  cleansed  his  crimsoned  soul  from  its 
deep  stains;  but  I  do  say,  that  in  the  fate  of  that 
strange  man  we  have  a  strikins^  illustration  of  the 
misery  of  being  answered  according  to  the  multitudes 
of  one's  idols,  even  in  this  state  of  unfinished  judg- 
ments. 

This  whole  subject  teaches  men  the  necessity  of 
making  God  the  great  object  of  his  pursuit ;  for  all 
other  objects,  if  obtained,  may  be  the  means  or  in- 
struments of  his  ruin.  Be  careful  then,  my  Christian 
brethren,  in  pursuing  earthly  objects.  You  desire 
them,  and  to  a  certain  extent  you  are  right  in  doing 
so.  You  may  pray  for  them,  for  this  is  allowed  by 
God.  But  remember  to  pray  that  you  may  not  ob- 
tain them,  unless,  being  in  your  possession,  they  will 
promote  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  and  your  own  spi- 
ritual and  eternal  well-being.  Pray  for  them  with 
an  earnest  desire  that  God  will  decide  about  granting 
or  withholding  them,  in  reference  to  these  two  ends. 
Otherwise,  the  best  and  purest  of  the  beings  and 
things  may  become  your  idols ;  according  to  which 
God  in  his  righteous  anger  will  answer  your  sinful 
prayers.  The  period  will  come  to  us  all,  when  com- 
pared with  the  ages  of  eternity  then  elapsed,  the 
days  of  our  mortal  pilgrimage  will  be  as  a  drop  of 
water  to  the  ocean.  Let  us  all  endeavour  then  here 
to  form  a  due  estimate  of  earthly  objects.  Since  all 
of  us,  whether  in  the  blackness  of  darkness  and 
despair,  or  in  the  presence  of  the  Infinite  Jehovah, 
are  destined  to  realize  their  nothingness. 

16 


SERMON  IX. 

CHRIST'S  INVITATION  IN  THE  TEMPLE. 

[  For  llie  Twenty-First  Sunday  after  Trinity.] 

In  the  last  day,  that  great  day  of  the  feast,  Jesus  stood  and  cried, 
saying,  If  any  man  thirst  let  him  come  to  Me  and  drink.  He  that 
believeth  on  Me,  as  the  Scripture  hath  said,  out  of  his  belly  shall 

flow  rivers  of  living  water. 

St.  John,  vii.  37,  38. 

The  eighth  and  last  day  of  the  feast  of  Tabernacles, 
was  one  of  the  most  solemn  seasons  in  the  Jewish 
ecclesiastical  year;  which  may  be  inferred  from  a 
common  saying  of  the  Jews  about  it,  which,  was  to 
this  effect,  "  that  he  who  had  not  seen  that  day,  had 
seen  no  rejoicing."  On  that  day  water  was  brought 
from  Siloam  with  great  pomp  and  rejoicing.  The 
priests  went  forth  to  the  fountain,  bearing  golden 
vessels  upon  their  heads,  and  returned  to  the  temple 
accompanied  with  festal  hymns  and  triumphant 
music.  There  they  mingled  the  water  of  Siloam 
with  wine,  bore  it  to  the  High  Altar,  and  poured  it 
upon  the  Altar  and  upon  the  victims  to  be  offered 
thereon.  This  was  done  in  grateful  commemoration 
of  the  water  that  gushed  upon  their  fathers  in  the 
desert  from  the  stony  rock;  and  as  a  type  or 
emblem — at  least,  so  some  of  the  Jewish  learned  men 
tell  us — of  the  blessings  to  be  poured  out  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,  in  the  times  of  Messiah. 


Christ's  invitation  in  the  temple.         123 

It  was  during  the  performance  of  this  ceremony, 
while  the  procession  of  priests,  with  songs,  and  instru- 
ments of  music,  and  golden  vessels  of  limpid  water, 
swept  beneath  His  eye,  and  the  people  looked  on 
with  joy  and  admiration,  remembering  with  grati- 
tude the  miracle  that  quenched  the  thirst  of  their 
ancestors  in  the  barren  wilderness,  that  the  Lord 
stood  and  cried,  "  If  any  man  thirst  let  him  come  to 
Me  and  drink.  He  that  beleiveth  on  Me,  as  the 
Scripture  hath  said,  out  of  his  belly  shall  flow  rivers 
of  living  water."  How  these  words  must  have  thrilled 
and  astonished  the  crowd  upon  whose  ears  they  first 
fell!  For  a  moment  the  solemn  and  joyous  scene 
before  them  was  forgotten,  and  they  turned  their  gaze 
upon  Him,  who  spake  to  them  as  never  man  spake. 
Some  of  them  said,  "  Of  a  truth  this  is  the  Prophet;" 
"  Others  said,  this  is  the  Christ."  But  others  again 
doubted,  and  said,  "  shall  Christ  come  out  of  Galilee?" 
Some  of  them,  we  may  trust,  believed  and  went  to 
Christ,  and  never  again  felt  the  burning  thirst  of  a 
soul  without  its  appointed  portion — God.  But  the 
most  of  them,  M^e  may  fear,  from  their  after  history, 
soon  turned  away  from  their  Saviour.  In  the  pomp  of 
the  great  feast  day,  in  the  pouring  out  of  the  water 
upon  the  sacrifice,  in  the  festal  hymns  and  music, 
the  solemn  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus  were  forgotten ; 
and  they  hurried  on  to  their  appointed  place,  and 
perhaps  never  again  recalled  His  gracious  invitation 
to  come  to  Him  and  drink,  until  tormented  in  the 
quenchless  flame,  they  begged  for  drop  of  a  water  to 
alleviate  their  torments*  and  begged  in  vain. 

Mv  brethren,  the  same  Lord  addresses  the  same  invi- 


124        Christ's  invitation  in  the  temple. 

tation,  and  the  same  favour  to  you  this  day.  You  must 
not  look  upon  either  as  idle  words,  or  as  words  which 
may  be  slighted  without  greatly  injuring  yourselves. 
As  if  the  Lord  stood  here  by  our  Altar,  as  He  stood 
in  the  temple  of  Jerusalem,  He  invites  you  now,  by 
the  Bible  and  by  His  authorized  ambassador,  to  come 
to  him  and  be  satisfied  forever.  You  are  as  much 
asked  to  come  and  be  partakers  of  the  Gospel  bless- 
ings, as  if  with  your  own  ears  you  heard  the  gentle 
tones  of  His  voice.  I  trust  that  many  of  us  have, 
long  ere  this,  heard  His  voice  and  obeyed  His  gracious 
call.  But  there  may  be  some — there  may  be  many, 
here,  who  have  never  come  to  Christ,  to  drink  of  the 
waters  of  everlasting  life.  Let  such,  before  they 
make  up  their  minds  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  again  to  their 
Saviour's  merciful  invitation,  fix  their  minds  for  a 
moment  upon  these  three  things :  the  class  of  persons 
called  to  come  to  Christ ;  what  is  meant  hij  coming  to 
Christ;  and  the  blessing  here  promised  to  all  those 
who  do  come  to  Christ.  Blessed  Saviour,  let  not  these 
Thy  words  return  to  Thee  void  of  fruit!  By  the 
Holy  Spirit  impress  them  upon  some  lost  soul !  Bring 
some  weary  wanderer  away  from  the  broken  cisterns 
that  hold  no  water,  to  that  Fountain  whose  waters 
spring  up  to  everlasting  life  ! 

What  sort  of  people  are  here  invited  to  come  to 
Christ?  The  words  run  "  if  any  man  thirst  let  him 
come  to  Me,  and  drink."  Every  one  then  who  is 
tired  of  the  weary  pomp  and  pleasures,  cares  and 
vexations  of  the  world  and  sin,  and  who  desires 
something  better  and  more  enduring  than  anything 
he  has  found  here  on  earth ;  every  one,  no  matter  how 


Christ's  invitation  in  the  temple.      125 

great  a  sinner  he  has  been,  who  now  wants  to  be 
pardoned  and  cleansed  from  his  sins,  to  be  made 
holy,  to  be  created  anew  in  righteousness  and  true 
holiness  in  the  image  of  his  God,  and  to  be  made 
meet  for  that  new  w^orld  which  Christ  is  preparing 
for  those  who  love  Him,  is  asked  to  come  without 
money  and  Avithout  price — without  anything  to  re- 
commend him  to  the  notice  and  favour  of  Christ,  and 
take  all  these  blessings,  blessings  which  pass  all  un- 
derstanding, freely.  It  will  do  no  good  to  say  more 
upon  this  point.  Almost  any  child  can  understand 
what  sort  of  people  are  here  called  to  our  Saviour — 
that  is  all  who  want  to  come.  Well,  now,  perhaps  I 
shall  be  told  by  some  honest  rejecter  of  Christ — "  I 
do  not  desire  to  come  to  Christ.  I  do  not  thirst  for 
His  spiritual  blessings,"  My  friend,  do  not  be  too 
certain  about  this.  It  may  be  that  you  have  felt  this 
thirst,  hardly  knowing  what  it  was.  Have  you 
never  felt,  what  almost  every  body  is  said  to  feel, 
dissatisfied  with  all  that  you  have;  felt  that  nothing 
gives  you  the  pleasure  that  you  expected  beforehand 
that  it  would  give  you ;  and  that  there  is  still  some- 
thing to  be  had,  you  do  not  know  what,  before  you 
will  be  satisfied  and  at  rest  ?  You  have  felt  so.  All 
of  us  have  felt  so.  Now  I  do  not  say  that  this  long- 
ing is  the  hungering  and  thirsting  after  righteous- 
ness, spoken  of  in  the  text,  and  in  other  parts  of  the 
Bible.  But  it  is  the  beginning  of  it.  It  is  the  con- 
fession of  the  soul  that  it  was  made  for  something 
higher  than  the  comforts  and  pleasures  of  this  world. 
But  how  did  you  treat  this  desire,  this  longing  ?  You 
set  your  heart  upon  some  new  worldly  thing,  which 


126       Christ's  invitation  in  the  temple. 

relieved  you  for  the  moment  and  then  left  you  just 
as  you  were  before;  even  as  a  thirsty  man  sometimes 
resorts  to  the  wine  cup,  which  appeases  his  thirst  one 
moment,  only  to  make  it  more  intolerable  the  next. 
But  perhaps  you  have  had  better  feelings  than  these. 
You  have  wished,  when  you  have  looked  upon  little 
children,  that  you  could  go  back  again,  and  be  as 
innocent  as  they;  or  when  you  have  seen  a  true 
Christian  tossing  on  the  feverish  bed  and  gasping  for 
breath,  yet  full  of  peace,  and  hope  and  joy,  you  have 
longed  to  change  places  with  him,  and  would  gladly 
have  given  up  strength  and  health  and  all  your  hopes 
and  prospects  in  this  life,  for  a  good  hope  of  eternal 
life  through  Jesus  Christ,  Or  when  you  have  met 
in  the  w^alks  of  life  a  religious  man  happy  and  con- 
tented and  peaceful  amid  sorrow  and  privation  and 
strife,  you  have  said  to  yourself — "  Oh,  that  I  vv^ere 
truly  religious;  that  I  could  look  up  to  God  in  love 
and  beheve  that  he  loves  me  ;  that  I  had  a  good  right 
to  believe  that  I  enjoy  the  favour  of  God."  My 
friend  and  brother,  if  you  feel  thus,  go  to  Christ. 
This  is  spiritual  thirst.  As  you  grow  in  grace,  you 
will  long  for  spiritual  blessings  more  and  more,  for 
their  own  sake.  But  this  dissatisfaction  with  earthly 
things,  these  longings  to  be  good,  are  signs  of  that 
thirst  w^hich  Christ  is  willing — yea,  longs  to  quench. 
All,  then  who  want  to  come  to  Christ  are  urged  to 
come  at  once.  And  if  there  be  any  who  have  no  such 
desire,  they  must  be  in  an  awfully  degraded  state. 
Think  of  it!  An  immortal  soul,  a  child  of  God,  con- 
tented to  grovel  in  the  dust!  To  fmd  all  its  happi- 
ness in  toys  and  baubles,  that  perish  in  the  using! 


Christ's  invitation  in  the  temple.       127 

To  tiiid  all  its  happiness  in  eating  and  drinking,  in 
having  houses  and  lands,  in  having  the  love  and  fa- 
vour of  its  fellow  worms.  Think  of  it!  An  im- 
mortal spirit,  willing  to  have  all  its  happiness  in  three 
score  years  and  ten  !  My  brethren,  if  I  speak  to  any 
such  wretched  persons,  let  me  beg  them,  if  they  have 
to  wrino"  thoughts  and  wishes,  out  of  hard  cold  hearts, 
to  pray;  to  pray  against  themselves;  to  pray  that  they 
may  value  spiritual  and  eternal  things  aright,  and 
earnestly  long  for  them. 

"If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  to  Me  and  drink." 
What  is  meant  by  coming  to  Christ?  Our  Lord 
Himself  has  explained  the  expression  in  the  next 
verse,  where  he  promises  rivers  of  living  water,  to 
him  that  believeth.  He  that  believes  in  Christ, 
comes  to  Christ ;  for  he  that  believes  in  Christ,  re- 
ceives all  Christ's  sayings  as  true,  and  so  will  do,  or 
try  to  do,  all  that  Christ  has  commanded.  He  will 
seek  of  Christ  true  repentance;  he  will  join  himself 
to  Christ's  body,  which  is  the  Church,  in  Holy  Bap- 
tism; and  will  use  all  those  other  means  of  grace 
which  Christ  has  left  in  his  Church.  There  is  no 
other  way  to  come  to  Christ  but  this.  A  man  may 
deceive  himself  with  raptures  and  visions  of  false 
hopes:  but  the  Lord  has  given  us  a  few  simple 
means,  by  using  which  in  a  right  spirit,  we  may  ob- 
tain eternal  blessings;  remission  of  sins,  the  gift  of 
the  Spirit,  and  everlasting  life.  By  using  these  means 
in  faith,  we  come  to  Christ,  and  shall  obtain  the  great 
blessing  of  spiritual  communion  with  Him.  Now 
there  are  here  two  classes  of  persons,  who  are  to  be 
exhorted  to  come  to  Christ.     One  class  is  composed 


128        Christ's  invitation  in  the  temple. 

of  those  who  are  not  members  of  the  Church  of 
Christ.  To  them  I  would  say  "  repent  and  be  bap- 
tised every  one  of  you  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ, 
for  the  remission  of  sins,  and  ye  shall  receive  the  gift 
of  the  Holy  Ghost."  What  are  you  waiting  for? 
Why  do  you  not  come  to  Christ  in  his  own  chosen 
ordinance,  this  very  day?  Are  you  waiting  for  a 
call?  You  have  had  a  call  to-day  in  the  solemn 
words  of  the  text;  a  call,  which  if  slighted,  will 
rise  up  against  you  at  the  dreadful  day  of  judg- 
ment. And  you  have  a  call  to  come  to  Christ  this 
moment,  in  that  still,  small  voice,  which  whispers 
to  your  heart,  that  it  will  be  madness  to  put  off  at- 
tending to  this,  the  great  work  of  life  for  another 
hour.  "And  now  why  tarriest  thou ?  arise  and  be 
baptised,  and  wash  away  thy  sins,  calling  on  the 
name  of  the  Lord."  The  other  class  of  persons  who 
must  be  urged  to  come  to  Christ,  consist  of  the  un- 
godly, the  carnal,  worldly-minded  members  of  the 
Church.  They  are  in  the  city  of  God;  they  sit  by 
the  banks  of  the  river  of  life;  but  suffer  its  pure 
waters  to  flow  away  from  them  untasted.  They  are 
indeed  outwardly  members  of  Christ,  but  have  no 
more  part  in  Him,  than  the  withered  branches  have 
in  the  goodly  tree,  which  they  disfigure  by  their  un- 
sightliness — they  have  a  name  to  live,  and  are  dead. 
My  brethren,  you  must  come  to  Christ  by  deep  and 
long,  and  painful,  and  serious  repentance  for  your  un- 
holy lives  and  conversation.  And  remember,  as  the 
rebellious  angels  were  cast  out  of  heaven  itself,  so,  at 
last  will  all  the  unworthy  members  of  Christ  be  cast 
out  of  the  Church  of  God,  which  is  the  gate  of  Heaven. 


Christ's  invitation  in  the  temple.        129 

The  third  thing  upon  which  I  asked  you  to  fix 
your  minds  was  the  blessing  'promised  to  all  those  that 
come  to  Christ.  "He  that  believeth  on  Me,  as  the 
Scripture  halh  said,  out  of  his^belly  shall  flow  rivers 
of  living  water."  These  words  refer  to  the  gift  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  which  is  in  the  soul  of  the  true  believer, 
an  unfailing  fountain  of  joy  and  peace,  of  love  to 
God  and  man,  and  of  all  graces  and  virtues.  This 
gift  our  Lord  promises  to  all  who  will  come  and  re- 
ceive it.  The  language  of  this  text  is  of  course  figu- 
rative, and  water  is  spoken  of  because  it  conveys  to 
the  mind  the  strongest  ideas  of  purity  and  refresh- 
ment. If  any  man  is  tired  of  the  ways  of  the  world, 
its  din,  strife,  and  bustle,  its  hollow  mirth,  and  its 
galling  cares,  he  is  promised  unfailing  peace  and  re- 
freshment, if  he  will  come  to  Christ.  This*  subject 
of  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost  cannot  be  discussed  or 
explained  at  the  close  of  a  discourse;  and  I  will  only 
call  your  attention  to  one  or  two  remarks  connected 
with  it.  Observe  the  condescension  of  Christ  in  at- 
tracting you  to  the  performance  of  a  bounden  duty 
by  the  promise  of  a  rich  blessing.  It  is  your  duty 
to  do  the  will  of  Christ ;  yet  he  promises  you  peace 
and-  happiness  forever  if  you  will  only  give  your- 
selves up  to  Him.  Then  reflect,  too,  my  brethren, 
that  very  many  good  and  wise  persons  have  gone  to 
Christen  the  strength  of  this  promise:  yet  no  one 
has  ever  been  disappointed.  There  is  no  one  who 
will  stand  up  and  say,  I  have  earnestly  tried  to  ob- 
tain the  promised  blessing,  but  I  have  found  it  all  a 
delusion.  Then,  surely,  as  reasonable  men,  who 
want  to  be  happy,  you  will  go  to  Christ,  that  you, 

17 


130       Christ's  invitation  in  the  temple. 

too,  may  be  blessed.  You  feel  the  thirst.  Christ 
has  promised  to  quench  it.  At  any  rate,  make  the 
trial. 

My  brethren,  the  invitation  which  has  so  often 
sounded  in  your  ears,  is  once  again  addressed  to  you. 
Many  times  you  have  rejected  it,  or  doubted  about 
it,  or  put  off  the  time  for  making  a  decision.  What 
vv^ill  you  do  to-day  ?  Will  you  go  away  ?  Will  you 
shut  your  ears  to  that  voice  ?  Well,  pass  away  from 
the  temple.  Drink  freely  of  the  rivers  of  earthly 
pleasure ;  and  dream  that  your  longings  are  all  satis- 
fied. But,  if  there  be  a  shadow  of  truth  in  the 
opinion  held  alike  by  the  enlightened  Christian,  and 
the  wise  Pagan,  that  the  soul  was  made  for  the  ser- 
vice and  enjoyment  of  God,  your  portion  in  the 
world  to  come  will  be — in  the  very  nature  of  things 
must  be — Eternal  Thirst. 


SERMON  X. 

INCONSISTENT  CHRISTIANS,  ENEMIES  OF  THE  CROSS. 

[For  the  Twenty-Third  Sunday  after  Trinity.] 

For  many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now  tell 
you  even  weeping,  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of 
Christ ;  whose  end  is  destruction  ;  whose  God  is  their  belly,  and 
whose  glory  is  their  shame,  who  mind  earthly  things. 

Philippians,  iii.  18,  19. 
» 

These  words  describe  the  character  of  certain 
who  professed  the  religion  of  Christ  in  the  days  of 
the  apostle  St.  Paul.  And  if  in  the  first  age  of 
Christianity,  when  persecution  was  the  earthly  por- 
tion of  those  who  become  Christians,  and  when  the 
w^orld,  as  such,  frowned  upon  the  Church,  there  were 
many,  sensual  and  worldly  members  of  Christ,  can 
we  wonder  that  it  is  so  now,  when  that  religion  is  a 
passport,  as  it  should  be,  to  honour  and  respecta- 
bility? My  Christian  brethren,  it  is  still  so.  In 
every  branch  of  the  Church  Catholic,  in  every 
diocese,  in  every  parish,  there  are  followers  of  the 
Lord,  who  are  the  enemies  of  His  cross;  who  by 
their  inconsistent  lives  are  destroying  their  own 
souls,  and  perhaps  the  souls  of  those  with  whom 
they  associate !  And  since  these  things  are  so,  woe 
to  that  Pastor  of  Christ  who  does  not  fearlessly  re- 
buke and  reprove  all  such  disciples!      The  manly 


132  INCONSISTENT   CHRISTIANS, 

Paul  had  tears  for  such.  Oh,  if  we  felt  as  we  should, 
if  we  realized  eternal  things  as  we  ought,  we  should 
have  bitter  tears,  kindly  rebukes,  and  firm,  though 
friendly  warnings,  for  these  false  Christians.  Nor 
should  these  be  confined  to  the  pulpit  alone.  As  the 
pastor  goes  from  house  to  house,  he  should  not  be 
afraid  to  tell  his  sheep  when  they  are  going  astray. 
He  should  say  to  the  proud — "  My  friend,  you  have 
forgotten  that  some  with  whom  you  worship  and 
commune  are  your  brethren,  who  are  dear  to  God  and 
should  be  very  dear  to  you."  He  should  say  to  those 
who  appear  to  love  this  world  ;  "  It  is  my  duty' to  tell 
you  that  your  dress,  your  houses  and  lands,  or  your 
business  engross  too  much  of  your  thoughts  and 
affections."  He  should  say  to  the  envious  and  hate- 
ful, to  the  evil  speaker,  and  to  the  slanderer  of  his 
brethren,  "  My  friend,  I  hear  you  telling  with  de- 
light the  failing  and  sins  of  those  whom  you  profess 
to  love.  I  see  you  passing  by  your  fellow  commu- 
nicants in  the  daily  walks  of  life,  not  only  without 
a  kind  word  and  look,  but  even  with  a  glance  of  dis- 
like and  hatred.  Be  careful !  I  am  afraid  that  you 
are  hating  some  whom  Christ  loves.  I  am  afraid 
that  you  are  abiding  in  death."  But  if  a  pastor 
should  adopt  such  a  course  in  these  days,  with 
what  hatred  and  ridicule  would  he  be  loaded  !  Yet 
such  is  our  bounden  duty.  But  men  have  got  to 
think  that  a  clergyman  is  merely  a  preacher;  that 
his  duty  is  merely  to  conduct  the  public  services 
of  the  Church,  and  to  preach  an  agreeable  sermon; 
and  then  his  conscience  is  clear.  Merciful  Lord, 
put  a  new  and  better  spirit  in  all  our  hearts!    Make 


ENEMIES   OF   THE    CROSS.  133 

US  more  afraid  of  Thee  than  Thine  !  Make  us 
more  afraid  of  destroying  a  soul  which  Thou  hast 
redeemed,  through  our  unfaithfulness,  than  of  of- 
fending our  fellow  men  by  too  great  plainness  of 
speech ! 

In  the  words  of  the  text,  St.  Paul  has  described 
the  character,  position  and  end  of  the  false  Christians 
of  his  day;  but  as  the  same  description  answers 
equally  well  for  these  times,  it  w^ill  be  the  subject  of 
some  remarks  this  morning.  And  my  brethren  let 
me  beg  of  you,  not  as  a  matter  of  form,  but  seriously 
and  earnestly,  as  we  go  along,  to  ask  yourselves 
whether  you  are  true  or  false  Christians.  For  you 
well  know  that  we  may  come  regularly  to  Church 
and  communion,  and  have  hearts  very  far  from  God. 
.  There  are  three  things  said  of  these  false  Chris- 
tians :  namely,  that  their  God  is  their  belly ;  that 
their  glory  is  in  their  shame;  and  that  they  mind 
earthly  things.  Upon  each  of  them  we  may  bestow 
a  few  words.  "  Whose  God  is  their  belly" — which 
means  that  these  people  yield  themselves  up  to  the 
dominion  of  sensual  appetite.  To  this  charge  w^e 
shall  all,  of  course,  plead  not  guilty  at  once.  "  I  am 
no  glutton,  I  am  no  drunkard,  I  am  not  licentious" 
is  heard  from  every  side.  Yet  this  may  be  entirely 
true,  and  still  we  may  have  a  God  of  sensual  appetite. 
If  you  make  your  own  ease  and  comfort  the  great 
object  of  life,  you  make  a  God  of  sensual  appetite. 
And  it  is  in  this  way  that  thousands  offend.  They 
never  indulge  any  appetite  or  desire  unlawfully  or 
excessively;  yet  they  will  not  give  up  a  single  com- 
fort  for  the  will   of   God.     How    much  more   we 


134        •  INCONSISTENT    CHRISTIANS, 

think  of  food  and  clothing  than  of  religion !  There 
are  many  who  would  not  for  the  world  go  to  church 
in  a  shabby  dress,  who  take  no  pains  to  come  there 
with  pure  hearts  and  humble  minds.  There  are 
many  Christians  who  feel  very  much  hurt,  if  certain 
people  slight  and  neglect  them ;  and  yet  who  feel  no 
anxiety  about  being  noticed  by  God.  You  think  a 
deal  about  your  property.  You  try  to  improve  it 
and  to  make  it  as  profitable  as  you  can.  You  have 
hopes  and  fears  about  it,  which  now  elevate,  and  now 
depress  you.  Well;  how  is  it  about  heaven?  Are 
you  so  very  anxious  about  obtaining  that  eternal 
Kingdom  ?  Do  you  watch  your  right  and  title  to  that 
enduring  possession,  with  one  half  of  the  care  which 
you  bestow  on  your  estate  ?  You  have  health  to  pre- 
serve. Something  disorders  the  nicely  organized 
frame.  How  eagerly  you  fly  to  your  physician ! 
How  carefully  you  follow  his  advice  !  But  a  sadder 
disease  fastens  on  the  soul.  You  have  some  sorely 
besetting  sin  which  threatens  to  destroy  you.  But 
how  little  and  how  coldly  you  pray  about  it !  How 
little  real  anxiety  it  gives  you  !  How  seldom  do  you 
watch  with  trembling  hope,  whether  it  is  going  away 
from  the  soul !  Thus,  my  brethren,  you  see,  that  if 
we  who  are  professed  Christians  put  our  ease  and 
comfort,  our  bodily  wants,  our  health  and  property 
before  God  in  our  thoughts  and  affections,  we  belong 
to  that  degraded  class,  whose  God  is  sensual  appetite. 
The  next  thing  said  of  these  Christians  is,  that 
their  glory  is  their  shame;  that  is,  that  they  are 
proud  of  those  very  things  Mdiich  ought  to  over- 
whelm them  with  confusion.     Perhaps  this  trait  is 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS.  *         135 

not  now  so  commonly  found  in  the  false  Christian; 
and  yet  we  have  all  witnessed  it  either  in  ourselves 
or  others.  There  is  a  young  Christian,  for  instance, 
— yes,  a  Christian,  for  the  waters  of  regeneration 
have  bedewed  his  brow — who  thinks  it  manly  to  be 
profane,  and  glories  in  the  horrid  oaths  that  pollute 
his  lips.  There  is  a  middle  aged  Christian,  who 
feels  a  pride  in  his  cunning,  and  who  glories  in  hav- 
ing overreached  his  neighbour,  in  some  matter  of 
traffic.  There  is  another  Christian  who  has  received 
an  affront  or  injury  from  a  fellow  member  of  Christ. 
A  good  opportunity  for  resentment  presents  itself 
Cuttin  g  remarks,  or  cold  neglect,  or  haughty  looks 
are  his  instruments  of  revenge;  and  he  goes  home 
glorying,  that  he  has  wounded  the  feelings  of  his 
brother.  My  brethren,  none  of  us  I  trust,  glory  in 
open  vice  and  profligacy;  but  if  we  should  go  on  ex- 
amining ourselves  in  little  matters,  should  we  not 
all  find  that  we  glory,  or  have  gloried  in  some  things 
which  ought  to  cover  us  with  confusion? 

The  last  characteristic  given  of  these  Christians 
is  that  they  mind  earthly  things.  The  word  here 
rendered  mind,  means  to  set  one's  affections  on  any 
thing.  Of  course,  it  is  the  duty  of  all  of  us  to  mind, 
in  one  sense  of  the  word,  earthly  things ;  for  we  must 
be  fed  and  clothed,  and  our  business  must  be  looked 
after.  But  false  and  insincere  followers  of  Christ, 
while  they  profess  to  look  for  an  enduring  state  of 
things,  fix  their  hopes  on  one  which  passeth  away. 
There  is  no  need  of  any  fuller  description  of  this 
trait :  but  if  any  of  you  wish  to  find  out  whether  it 
belongs  to  your  own  characters,  take  this  simple  test. 


136  INCONSISTENT  CHRISTIANS, 

See  whether  you  sincerely  prefer  spiritual  to  earthly 
prosperity;  and  whether  you  really  dread  the  loss  of 
God's  favour  more  than  any  other  thing  in  the 
world.  But  I  pass  to  the  position  occupied  by  false 
Christians. 

"  They  are  the  enemies  of  the  Cross  of  Christ." 
The  people  of  whom  these  words  were  first  spoken 
were  hostile  to  the  blessed  doctrine  of  salvation  only 
through  the  merits  of  a  crucified  Redeemer,  and  held 
that  circumcision,  and  other  ritual  observances  of  the 
law  of  Moses,  were  necessary  to  salvation.  Now, 
professed  Christians  are  enemies  of  the  Cross  of 
Christ  in  these  two  ways ;  or  rather,  I  should  say,  that 
there  are  two  classes  of  enemies  of  Christ,  to  be  found 
among  His  avowed  followers.  One  class  denies  the 
necessity  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  Cross,  and  affirms 
that  mere  morality,  as  it  is  called,  is  enough  for  any 
man's  salvation.  The  other  class  is  the  largest,  and 
opposes  the  triumphs  of  the  Cross  by  ungodly  life 
and  conversation.  It  is  with  the  latter  class  that  we 
have  chiefly  to  do;  for,  thank  God,  I  believe  that  all 
the  members  of  this  parish  hold  the  great  truth,  that 
"  we  are  accounted  righteous  before  God  only  for  the 
merits  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  by 
faith ;  and  not  for  our  own  works  or  deservings."  The 
persons  composing  this  latter  class,  are  enemies  of 
the  Cross  of  Christ  in  these  ways :  by  their  simpli- 
city and  hardness  of  heart  they  keep  the  influences 
of  the  Cross  from  themselves;  and  by  their  bad  ex- 
ample, they  keep  others  from  the  Cross.  I  know 
that  men  have  no  business  to  make  the  inconsistency 
of  Christians  an  excuse  for  not  coming  to  Christ;  I 


ENEMIES  OF  THE  CROSS.  137 

know  that  it  is  an  excuse  that  will  be  treated  with 
awful  contempt  at  the  last  day.  But  men  will  say — 
and  it  is  natural  that  they  should  so  say — when  they 
see  the  vast  diflference  between  profession  and  prac- 
tice in  most  of  us  who  are  called  Christians,  "His 
religion  cannot  be  much,  cannot  be  real,  it  does  so 
little  for  the  hearts  and  lives  of  those  who  profess  to 
enjoy  it."  My  brethren,  would  to  God  that  the 
preacher  had  the  faith  and  feelings  of  St.  Paul,  to 
tell,  even  weeping,  every  false  Christian  here,  that  he 
is  an  enemy  of  the  Cross  of  Christ !  If  there  is  one 
before  me  who  feels  that  his  character  is  described 
in  the  words  of  the  text,  let  me  beg  of  him,  wherever 
he  goes  to  carry  this  thought  along  with  him, — "I 
am  an  enemy  of  the  Cross  of  Christ."  When  he 
kneels  down  to  say  his  heartless  prayers,  let  him  re- 
member that  he  is  about  to  pray  to  one  whom  he 
daily  opposes.  When  he  comes  to  Church,  when 
he  kneels  at  the  communion,  let  him  remember,  "I 
am  the  enemy  of  the  Cross  of  Christ."  When  he 
sees  the  poor  profligate  rolling  in  misery  and  guilt, 
let  him  think,  perhaps  I  am  keeping  that  poor  wretch 
from  the  only  thing  that  can  save  him.  When  he 
reads  of  his  Saviour's  living  humiliation,  and  dying 
agonies,  let  him  reflect,  "This  is  my  Saviour;  He 
underwent  all  these  for  me;  and  I  am  His  enemy." 
Can  he  bear  such  a  thought  ?  If  he  can  bear  it  now, — 
and  the  heart  may  become  hard  enough  to  bear  even 
such  a  thought  about  with  it,  without  feeling  much 
uneasiness — he  will  not  be  able  to  endure  it  when  he 
arrives  at  the  false  Christian's  final  end. 

"  Whose  end  is  destruction."     The  false  Christian 

18 


138  INCONSISTENT    CHRISTIANS, 

is  like  a  man  doomed  to  death,  who  takes  passage  in  a 
ship  with  a  goodly  number,  bound  to  the  same  haven, 
for  the  purpose  of  pleasure.  They  rejoice  as  their 
vessel  bounds  over  their  waves,  and  as  the  distant 
shore  spreads  beneath  their  straining  gaze.  He  trem- 
bles, for  the  hour  of  his  landing  will  be  the  hour  of 
his  death.  True  Christians  rejoice  as  the  years  hasten 
on ;  for  they  are  coming  nearer  to  their  Lord,  and  they 
love  to  look  for  the  appearing  of  their  Saviour.  But 
how  would  the  false  Christian  tremble,  if  he  could 
realize  the  horrors  of  his  situation !  And  yet  this 
very  day,  he  has  prayed  God  to  hasten  the  hour  of 
his  doom.  "  Thy  kingdom  come  "  is,  in  the  mouth  of 
the  true  Christian,  a  fervent  prayer  for  the  fulness 
of  that  kingdom,  at  the  coming  of  which  he  will  be 
delivered  from  sin  and  misery.  But  on  the  lips  of 
the  hypocrite,  or  the  inconsistent  disciple,  it  rises  up 
a  solemn  petition  for  the  hastening  of  his  ruin.  My 
brethren,  your  end  will  be  destruction.  If  these  aw- 
ful words  of  God  make  no  impression  on  your  souls, 
no  violent  and  exaggerated  language  of  man  will 
have  any  effect.  Your  end  will  be  destruction.  May 
you  understand  the  import  of  these  fearful  words ! 

And  will  any  man  ask,  why  so  much  preaching 
about  inconsistent  Christians,  when  there  are  so  many 
openly  opposed  to  the  Lord  ?  Simply  because  in- 
consistent Christians  are  the  worst  enemies  of  the 
Cross  of  Christ.  The  fire  of  true  religion  burns 
brightest  and  highest  when  persecution  most  rages ; 
but  in  the  cold  atmosphere  of  insincere,  inconsistent 
Christian  profession,  it  almost  goes  out  forever.  There 
must  be  a  mighty  change  wrought  in  the  Church 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS.  139 

before  the  conversion  of  the  world.  There  must  be 
warmer  hearts  and  truer  hands  about  the  Cross,  be- 
fore it  is  borne  aloft  in  triumph,  above  a  redeemed 
earth.  Yes,  and  to  come  down  to  particulars,  if  we 
as  Christians  wish  to  do  more  good  in  our  own  town 
and  parish,  we  must  become  much  more  what  Chris- 
tians profess  to  be,  and  ought  to  be. 

My  brethren,  as  you  return  to  your  homes,  anx- 
iously ask  yourselves  whether  you  are  true  Chris- 
tians? Be  contented  with  any  thing,  rather  than  a 
cold,  heartless,  formal  religion :  for  if  there  be  a 
blessed  man  in  this  world,  the  religious  man  must  be 
blessed;  and  if  there  be  a  truly  wretched  man  below, 
it  must  be  the  man  who,  with  unsubdued  appetites 
and  unrenounced  sin,  is  trying  to  gain  some  worldly 
end,  or  to  attempt  to  lull  an  unquiet  conscience  to 
rest,  by  an  insincere  and  hypocritical  profession  of 
the  Gospel.  For  whatever  be  his  rank,  station  and 
estate,  howsoever  fair  his  prospects  for  time,  he  is 
the  enemy  of  the  Cross  of  Christ. 


SERMON  XL 

THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS  A  HIDING  PLACE. 

[  For  the  fourth  Sunday  in  Advent.] 

And  a  man  shall  be  as  an  hiding  place  from  the  wind,  and  a  covert 
from  the  tempest ;  as  rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place,  as  the 
shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land. 

Isaiah,  xxxii.  2. 

These  beautiful  words  may  perhaps  primarily 
apply  to  King  Hezekiah ;  but  in  the  fulness  of  their 
meaning  they  belong  to  the  God-man,  our  blessed 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  They  describe  Him  in  figura- 
tive language,  as  doing  various  acts  of  love  and 
kindness  for  our  race.  Once  more,  on  the  eve  of 
celebrating  the  festival  of  His  nativity,  it  will 
heighten  and  purify  our  joy,  to  reconsider  some  of 
the  offices  of  love  which  He  has  performed  towards 
helpless  and  exposed  man.  For  if  we  know  clearly 
from  what  we  have  been  delivered,  and  what  we  have 
gained  by  Christ,  holier  and  heartier  will  be  the 
hymns  of  joy  with  which  we  shall  usher  in  His  natal 
morn. 

''  A  man  shall  be  as  an  hiding  place  from  the  wind, 
and  a  covert  fjom  the  tempest."  If  we  are  right  in 
the  application  of  these  words  to  our  Saviour,  the 
word  man  is  well  worthy  of  attentive  consideration. 


THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS  A  HIDING  PLACE.  141 

It  is  highly  important  that  you  should  constantly 
bear  in  mind  that  Christ  Jesus,  though  very  God 
is  also  very  man.  "The  Word  was  God,"  says  St. 
John,  "and  became  flesh."  And  Christ  wa.s  "in 
the  form  of  God,"  says  St.  Paul,  and  was  "made  in 
the  likeness  of  man."  He  was  as  much  and  indeed 
man  as  any  of  us.  As  man,  he  increased  in  wis- 
dom and  stature,  hungered,  thirsted,  wept,  felt  the 
emotions  of  grief,  pity  and  fear,  suffered  pains  of 
soul  and  body,  writhed  under  physical  anguish,  and 
was  disquieted  with  spiritual  distress,  bowed  His 
head  and  died.  It  is  important,  we  repeat,  to  bear 
the  fact  in  our  minds,  that  Jesus  Christ  was  very 
man,  as  well  as  very  God.  And  we  think,  as  we  ad- 
vance in  the  examination  of  the  text,  that  you  will 
see  the  reasons  for  this.  A  man  is  our  covert.  Now 
we  will  not  undertake  to  say  that  God  could  not  have 
saved  our  race  in  some  other  way,  than  by  becoming 
man;  for  we  cannot  speak,  since  we  know  not  of, 
impossibilities  with  God :  but  we  do  say  that  a  mode 
more  beautiful  and  touching,  more  interesting  and 
winning,  than  the  one  by  which  we  have  been  re- 
deemed, the  incarnation  of  the  eternal  Son,  the  heart 
of  man  cannot  conceive.  Now  imagine  for  a  moment, 
instead  of  coming  in  the  form  of  man  to  save  us, 
Christ  had  appeared  in  the  full  array  of  His  glorious 
majesty,  encircled  with  His  angelic  hosts,  receiving 
the  homage  of  the  mighty  universe,  created  by  Him 
and  for  Him.  While  the  glorious  vision  rested 
upon  the  earth,  terror  would  have  drawn  all  tribes 
and  nations  to  the  footstool  of  their  King ;  but  when 
that  King  had  returned  to  His  throne  on  high,  is  it 


142         THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS  A  HIDING  PLACE. 

too  much  to  say,  looking  at  men  as  they  are,  that 
they  would  have  rushed  back  in  crowds  to  the  dark 
service  of  the  fallen  Prince  of  this  world  ?  If  any 
of  you  deny  or  doubt  the  truth  of  this  assertion,  we 
would  remind  you  of  the  conduct  of  the  children  of 
Israel,  in  the  face  of  the  most  sublime  and  terrible 
display  of  the  glory  and  power  of  God.  They  wit- 
nessed the  wonders  that  He  wrought  in  Egypt ;  heard 
the  dreadful  cry  that  rang  throughout  the  land,  in 
that  night  when  every  house  had  its  death-couch 
spread  for  the  cherished  first  born;  saw  the  waves, 
that  had  rolled  on  for  centuries,  pause  in  their  old 
course,  leap  up  and  open  a  way  before  them ;  gazed 
with  awful  reverence  at  the  pillar  of  fire  and  cloud, 
which  now  revealed  and  now  covered  the  presence  of 
Jehovah;  and  trembled  beneath  the  thunders  that 
shook  Sinai  to  its  base  :  and  yet  all  the  while  con- 
ducted in  the  most  perverse  and  rebellious  manner. 
Now,  from  this  fact,  we  argue,  that  a  visible  dis- 
play of  glory  at  the  first  coming  of  the  Son  of  God 
would  have  had  the  same  effect,  or  rather  w^ould 
have  had,  as  little  effect.  Indeed,  we  know  that  the 
assertion  is  true,  from  the  fact  that  the  terrible  dis- 
play of  divine  power  on  the  day  of  our  Saviour's 
crucifixion  made  so  little  impression  upon  the  mass 
of  the  Jewish  people.  The  truth  is,  that  these  dis- 
plays of  power  and  glory  overcome  men  while  they 
continue  visible ;  but,  when  withdrawn,  pass  away 
from  the  mind  altogether,  or  are  but  dimly  remem- 
bered. They  do  not — we  speak  it  with  reverence — 
reach  the  heart :  they  appeal  to  the  fears  of  men ;  but 
do  not  take  hold  of  their  affections.    But  Christ  Jesus 


THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS  A  HIDING  PLACE.  143 

came  not  with  visible  glory,  but  in  great  humility. 
A  man  is  our  hiding  place  and  our  covert.  Let  us 
now  examine  the  effect  which  this  truth,  namely, 
that  the  God-man  is  our  Saviour,  is  calculated  to  pro- 
duce on  the  soul. 

It  is  calculated  to  arrest  our  attention.  We  have 
briefly  shown  what  little  abiding  effect  visible  dis- 
plays of  God's  presence  have  produced  in  the  hearts 
of  men.  We  need  not  say  that  to  tell  the  most  of 
men,  that  a  mere  man  is  their  Saviour,  would  sink 
them  deeper  in  despair  than  ever :  for  who  in  the 
hour  of  death  would  trust  to  any  work  wrought  by 
a  being  capable  of  being  so  wayward  and  false  and 
fickle  as  fallen  man  ?  But  tell  me,  that  as  I  needed 
a  Saviour,  so  God  became  man  to  be  my  Saviour ; 
and  my  attention  is  in  a  moment  fixed  upon  so  as- 
tounding a  fact.  I  stop,  think  about  it,  ask  about  it; 
and,  if  I  believe  it,  must  at  any  rate  make  up  my 
mind  that  it  was  a  fearful  necessity  which  made 
such  a  humiliation  of  God  necessary.  Thus  my  at- 
tention is  arrested,  and  having  my  mind  drawn  to 
contemplate  slich  a  Saviour,  I  am  at  any  rate  in  the 
Avay  of  being  saved. 

Then  again  the  truth,  that  our  Saviour  is  God,  has 
a  tendency  to  drive  away  those  fears  and  anxieties 
which  creatures  of  a  day  must  have,  when  they  ap- 
proach the  Eternal,  all  powerful  Creator.  We  know 
that  by  nature  man  is  proud  and  vain,  and  puffed  up 
with  notions  of  his  own  importance :  and,  yet,  when 
thoughtful  men  contrast  themselves  with  God,  they 
not  only  feel  their  own  littleness,  but  begin  to  fear 
that  so  great  a  God,  cannot  condescend  to  notice 


144      THE    MAN    CHRIST   JESUS    A    HIDING    PLACE. 

their  wants,  pity  their  sorrows,  and  support  them 
under  trials  and  afflictions.  But  go  to  a  man,  con- 
victed of  sin,  and  almost  in  despair,  seeking  for  a  way 
of  pardon  and  peace :  and  tell  him  that  there  is  One 
who  has  suffered  in  his  stead  the  punishment  due  to 
his  sins;  that  if  he  will  seek  out  and  follow  that  One, 
he  will  be  saved;  and  that  that  One  is  God,  and  so 
all  powerful,  and  able  to  do  every  thing  which  He 
may  promise  to  do ;  and  also  knows,  and  so  is  able  to 
feel  for  man,  as  He  has  felt  with  man,  all  the  infirmi- 
ties and  distresses,  doubts  and  fears,  wants  and  pains 
which  fall  to  the  lot  of  man,  and  his  fears  and  anxie- 
ties will  be  done  away  at  once.  If  Jesus  Christ  be 
God  and  man,  he  will  reason,  as  God,  he  can  save 
me  to  the  uttermost,  protect  me  against  all  foes,  and 
overcome  in  me  and  without  me,  all  opposition  to  His 
holy  will ;  and  as  man.  He  will  feel  for  me,  feel  with 
me,  be  touched  with  the  feeling  of  my  infirmities, 
understand  and  enter  into  all  my  doubts  and  fears, 
and  wishes.  He  was  tempted  once,  just  as  I  am. 
Oh,  then,  he  will  feel  for  me  when  I  am  tempted, 
and  will  fly  to  my  succour !  He  has  sorrowed,  just 
as  I  sorrow.  Oh,  then.  He  knows  how  bitter  it  is, 
and  He  knows  too  how  to  give  comfort  and  consola- 
tion! He  was  despised,  and  rejected,  and  forsaken, 
in  the  hour  of  need  by  His  chosen  friends.  Oh, 
then.  He  will  support  me  under  shame  and  derision. 
He  will  be  my  friend,  when  even  "  my  father  and 
my  mother  forsake  me."  He  knows  what  death  is; 
he  has  struggled  in  its  agonies  and  bowed  beneath 
its  power.  Oh,  then,  if  I  put  myself  in  His  hands 
He  will  be  by  me  when  my  eye  grows  dim  and  my 


THE    MAN    CHRIST    JESUS,  A    HIDING    PLACE.       145 

heart  fails  for  fear.  He  will  go  at  my  side  through 
that  cold,  dark  valley,  where,  as  He  well  knows,  man 
dreads  to  go  alone.  Surely,  a  man  who  reasons  thus, 
will  commit  his  all  to  Jesus  Christ  for  time  and  eter- 
nity, and  give  himself  up  to  Him  in  an  everlasting 
covenant.  My  brethren,  if  God  had  descended  in 
the  pomp  of  His  full  glory,  to  be  our  Redeemer,  we 
should  have  fled  away  in  terror.  Ah,  why  are  we 
not  drawn  to  God  in  the  man  Christ  Jesus?  Is  there 
any  thing  terrible  in  Him?  Men  and  brethren,  do 
you  want  a  Saviour  mighty  to  save  ?  The  only  son 
of  God  the  Father  is  your  Saviour  and  Intercessor ! 
Who  can  doubt  for  a  moment  that  He  will  be  heard 
pleading  for  you?  Do  you  want  a  Saviour  who  can 
feel  with  you  and  feel  for  you?  The  Man  Christ 
Jesus  is  your  Saviour,  your  elder  Brother,  your 
sympathising  Friend.  "  A  man  shall  be  as  an  hiding- 
place  from  the  wind,  and  a  covert  from  the  tempest." 
The  first  words  of  the  text  have  led  us  to  look 
down  into  an  inexhaustible  subject,  which  must  now 
be  passed  over  with  the  hasty  glance  which  we  have 
given  it.  The  prophet,  after  announcing  the  Saviour 
as  man,  goes  on  to  tell  us  what  He  shall  be  to  His 
believing  people.  ''And  a  man  shall  be  as  an  hiding 
place  from  the  wind,  and  a  covert  from  the  tempest; 
as  rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place;  as  the  shadow  of  a 
great  rock  in  a  weary  land."  What  a  Saviour  the 
pious  Jew  must  have  looked  for,  from  these  words! 
For,  in  the  climes  with  which  he  was  familiar,  terri- 
ble tempests  raged,  and  blasts  laden  with  death  swept 
away  the  travellers  in  the  deserts;  broad  wastes  were 
spread  before  him,  where  one  might  journey  many  a 

19 


146       THE    MAN    CHRIST   JESUS,  A   HIDING    PLACE. 

weary  mile,  and  find  no  gurgling  spring  at  which  to 
quench  his  thirst;  and  a  burning  sun  beat  down, 
upon  dry  sands,  where  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock 
afforded  refreshment  and  comfort  of  which  we  can 
hardly  conceive.  Now,  in  this  figurative  language, 
our  Lord  is  described  as  one  who  is  to  be  a  Saviour 
and  Helper  to  His  people,  in  their  times  of  greatest 
want  and  distress.  Christ  is  the  believer's  shelter 
from  the  just  indignation  of  an  offended  Maker. 
Laying  aside  his  glory,  and  becoming  man,  He  stood 
between  us,  and  the  tempest  of  wrath  poured  out 
upon  our  fallen  race.  That  tempest  spent  its  fury 
upon  His  meek  form,  and  bowed  it  to  the  grave. 
And  although  it  will  again  burst,  in  ten-fold  fury 
and  force,  upon  the  tottering  and  aged  earth ;  yet  it 
will  not  reach  those,  who,  seeing  its  approach,  have 
fled  to  Christ,  as  their  covert  from  the  wind,  and  their 
hiding-place  from  the  tempest.  My  hearers,  if  you 
know  any  thing  of  the  torment  of  an  accusing  con- 
science, and  that  "fearful  looking  for  of  judgment 
and  fiery  indignation,"  which  must  at  times  haunt 
and  distress  the  soul  of  that  man  who  believes  the 
Bible,  and  at  the  same  time  disregards  its  invitations 
and  warnings;  and  if  you  have,  thus  convicted  and 
distressed,  received  Jesus  Christ  as  your  Saviour  in 
His  own  chosen  way,  you  will  understand  the  beauty 
and  feel  the  truth  of  the  description  given  of  Christ 
in  the  text.  Oh,  what  an  unspeakable  comfort  it  is 
to  a  sinful  soul,  to  a  man  who  hates  sin  and  longs  to 
escape  from  it,  to  see  and  receive  spiritually  that 
simple  and  beautiful  truth — "The  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin."    Oh,  if  we  could  only 


THE    MAN   CHRIST   JESUS,    A    HIDING    PLACE.      147 

bring  the  multitude  of  the  careless  and  unconverted, 
to  see  these  two  things,  that  they  are  sinners,  and  that 
God  will  execute  a  righteous  judgment  against  them, 
unless  they  repent;  Christ  might  be  preached  to 
them  with  power  and  effect.  But  they  know  not 
their  guiltiness ;  they  see  not  that  tempest  of  wrath, 
which  is  coming  down  upon  them,  like  the  red  Si- 
moom on  the  desert:  and  when  it  reaches  them,  it 
may  be,  that  they  will  be  far  from  the  only  covert  and 
the  only  hiding  place,  and  then  they  must  be  miser- 
ably destroyed. 

Our  Saviour  is  as  rivers  of  w^ater  in  a  dry  place — 
that  is,  He  is  an  unfailing  source  of  joy,  peace  and 
comfort  to  the  believing  soul.  We  believe  that  most 
unsanctified  men  will  admit,  that  life,  to  them,  not- 
withstanding all  the  mad  pleasures  by  which  they 
strive  to  kill  time,  is  a  weary  and  unsatisfactory 
thing.  We  believe,  that  every  irreligious  person  here 
will  tell  us,  that  he  is  not  satisfied ;  that  he  is  not 
truly  happy.  And  how  can  it  be  otherwise  ?  Can 
it  be  that  a  being  like  man,  capable  of  enjoying  such 
a  being  as  God,  can  be  satisfied,  with  sensual  plea- 
sures ;  can  be  happy  in  the  dull,  tiresome  routine,  of 
mere  worldly  life  ?  But  let  a  person  receive  Christ,  and 
devote  himself  to  that  for  which  he  was  made,  the 
service  of  his  Maker;  and  that  sweet  peace  that  will 
attend  him  in  all  his  duties  and  pursuits,  that  peace 
arising  from  a  consciousness  that  he  is  at  peace  with 
God,  and  is  striving  to  do  His  will,  will  be  to  his 
longing  heart  like  rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place.  My 
hearers,  is  life  a  dry  and  w^eary  and  uninteresting 
thing  to  you  ?     Then  you  may  be  sure  of  one  thing, 


148      THE    MAN    CHRISt    JESUS,    A    HIDING    PLACE. 

namely,  that  whatever  you  say  of  yourselves,  you 
are  not  at  peace  with  God,  through  Jesus  Christ. 
You  are  not  converted,  you  have  not  given  God  your 
heart  and  affections.  If  you  w^ant  to  be  happy,  we 
beg  you  to  yield  yourselves  to  Christ.  What  a  strange 
thing  it  is,  that  when  a  fountain  of  living  w^aters  is 
open  before  us,  such  multitudes  should  weary  them- 
selves in  hewing  out  cisterns  that  can  hold  no  water! 
Go,  and  perish  with  hunger,  if  you  will,  at  the  rich 
banquet ;  go  and  lie  down  by  the  fresh  spring,  and 
die  of  thirst  :  but  do  not  pine,  and  sicken,  and  die  of 
weariness  and  disgust,  with  such  a  provision  of  peace 
and  joy  as  God  has  made  for  all  men  in  the  blessed 
Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 

"  A  man  shall  be  as  a  shadow  of  a  great  rock,  in  a 
weary  land."  These  words,  as  we  understand  them, 
set  forth  our  Saviour  as  the  comforter  and  supporter 
of  His  people  under  trial  and  affliction.  He  has  not 
taken  affliction  aw^ay  from  believers ;  for,  being  Him- 
self made  perfect  through  suffering,  He  perfects 
His  disciples  in  the  same  way.  But,  when  affliction 
and  trial,  like  burning  sunbeams,  beat  down  upon  our 
heads,  He  is  near  us,  like  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock, 
to  temper  their  fierceness,  so  that  we  perish  not. 
This  comparison  is  exceedingly  beautiful :  for  the 
rocks  in  Eastern  countries  are  not  only  grateful  to 
travellers  from  the  shade  which  they  afford;  but  on 
account  of  the  luxurious  coolness  which  they  impart 
around  them.  We  take  it  for  granted  that  you  all 
expect  trials  and  aflfiictions  in  the  course  of  your 
lives — that  you  expect  that  health  will  sometimes 
fail;  that   plans  of  business   will   disappoint  your 


THE    MAN    CHRIST   JESUS,    A   HIDING   PLACE.      149 

hopes ;  that  friends  will  grow  cold  and  distant ;  that 
the  grave  will  open  to  receive  your  heart's  choicest 
treasures.  Perhaps  some,  or  all  of  these  things,  have 
already  happened  to  you.  You  know  at  any  rate, 
that  you  are  in  a  weary  land.  Will  you  not  then  rest 
under  the  Shadow  of  the  great  Rock?  If  God  had 
left  ns  in  this  world  of  trouble  without  a  comforter, 
what  murmurings  and  complaints  there  would  have 
been  !  And  now,  although  the  Son  has  become 
Man,  not  only  that  He  might  die  for  our  sins,  but 
that  He  might  be  our  compassionate  and  sympathiz- 
inof  Hiffh  Priest,  our  Brother  and  Friend ;  thousands 
of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  affliction  go  unconsoled 
to  their  cheerless  sepulchres.  There  is  the  pale  in- 
valid tossing  to  and  fro,  on  his  couch,  through  the 
weary  night  watches.  Jesus  Christ  is  by  him,  ready 
to  speak  peace;  and  the  sick  man  turns  from  Him,  to 
the  newspaper  or  the  novel,  or  the  trivial  talk  of  hol- 
low-hearted friends.  There  is  a  man,  who  has  lost 
his  estate.  The  Saviour  whispers  to  him,  be  of  good 
cheer,  I  have  riches  for  thee  that  cannot  fail ;  and  still 
he  frets  himself  into  his  grave.'-  There  is  a  mourner 
returning  from  the  church-yard,  where  he  has  left 
the  pride  and  joy  of  his  heart.  The  Lord  Jesus 
meets  him  with  the  triumphant  strain  "  I  am  the  re- 
surrection and  the  life;"  yet  he  hurries  onward,  sul- 
lenly and  sadly,  to  his  lonely  dwelling.  My  friends, 
you  know  of  yourselves,  that  "  in  the  world  ye  shall 
have  tribulation,"  and  ye  know  from  your  Bibles  and 
from  the  testimony  of  a  multitude  of  God's  people, 
that  there  is  not  a  pang  which  man  can  feel,  which 
Jesus  Christ  cannot  soothe  and  take  away.     Why 


150      THE    MAN   CHRIST   JESUS,  A    HIDING    PLACE. 

then  will  so  many  of  you  wander  on  through  a  weary 
land,  and  seek  not  the  Shadow  of  the  great  Rock? 
"Why  will  so  many  of  you  refuse  to  be  comforted  here, 
and  hasten  on  to  an  eternal  abode  where  comfort  will 
never  be  offered? 

The  text,  upon  which  w^e  have  thus  commented, 
presents  to  you  the  Saviour  of  mankind  in  the  most 
attractive  and  winning  light.  If  a  man  will  not  be 
Christ's,  let  him  never  complain  of  the  tempest  and 
the  wind,  which  will  howl  about  him,  and  of  the  dry 
places  and  the  hot  w^ary  land  through  which  he 
must  pass.  But  sure  are  we,  that  every  true  Chris- 
tian will  testify  to  the  truth  and  fidelity  of  the  pro- 
phet's description  of  his  Lord;  sure  are  we  that  all 
who  have  become  His  sincere  disciples,  will,  as  again 
they  are  called  upon  to  joy  at  the  Birth  of  Him  who 
was  as  at  this  time  cradled  for  us,  a  helpless  Babe  in 
the  stable  at  Bethlehem,  send  up  from  their  hearts, 
with  the  glad  Christmas  hymns  and  anthems,  Paul's 
fervent  expression  of  his  gratitude  for  the  blessings 
of  the  Gospel,  "  Thanks  be  unto  God  for  His  un- 
speakable gift!" 


SERMON  XII. 

THE  GLAD  TIDINGS  OF  SALVATION. 

[For  Christmas  Day.] 

Behold  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall   be  to  all 

people  ;  for  unto  you  is  born  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a 

Saviour,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord. 

St.  Luke,  ii.  10,  11. 

What  a  night  that  was  for  the  world,  in  the  which 
these  words  were  first  uttered!  Yet,  all  things 
seemed  to  be  going  on  in  their  common  course.  Men 
were  buried  in  slumber,  or  busy  with  life's  cares,  or 
rioting  in  unholy  pleasures.  Millions  bowed  down 
to  the  works  of  their  own  hands;  worshipping  as 
gods,  some  of  the  meanest  things  in  the  universe. 
Sin  sat,  the  enthroned  king  of  the  earth ;  for  fearfully 
small  was  the  number  of  those  who  on  that  night 
laid  their  heads  upon  their  pillows,  calling  on  the 
name  of  the  true  God.  Men  were  weeping  and 
laughing,  dying  and  coming  into  being,  marrying 
and  giving  in  marriage,  buying  and  selling,  hoping 
and  joying  and  fearing,  and  noting  down  that  night 
for  events  that  have  been  forgotten  for  aores.  The 
Roman  Emperor  sate  in  his  proud  palace,  and  deem- 
ed himself  the  mightiest  Potentate  on  the  earth ;  lit- 
tle thinking  meanwhile  that  a  stable,  in  the  City  of 


152  THE    GLAD    TIDINGS    OF    SALVATION. 

Bethlehem,  contained  the  King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of 
Lords.  Sinful  men  trembled  that  night,  as  the 
thought  flashed  across  their  minds,  that  there  might 
be  a  God  who  judged  the  earth ;  unknowing  that  the 
great  Victim  was  at  hand  who  was  to  stand  between 
them  and  His  wrath.  The  pale  sufferer  shook  with 
fear  that  night,  as  the  death  agonies  rocked  his 
frame,  and  the  sepulciire  yawned  at  his  feet ;  ignorant 
that  the  earth  had  just  received  One  who  was  to 
claim  for  Himself  the  proud  titles  of  the  Resurrection 
and  the  Life.  There  v^as  not  a  man  upon  tlie  face  of 
the  wide  earth  who  knew  that  that  hour  was  the 
most  important  which  had  ever  been  numbered  with 
the  days  of  the  children  of  men.  In  a  remote  corner 
of  the  world,  some  shepherds  were  abiding  in  the 
fields,  keeping  watch  over  their  flocks;  to  them 
angels  were  winging  their  way,  charged  with  the 
most  joyous  and  most  wonderful  message  that  ever 
came  from  the  throne  of  God.  That  night  com- 
pleted that  "  fulness  of  time,"  of  which  the  long 
line  of  prophets  spake,  and  which  the  old  saints 
longed  to  see.  A  star  then  rose  upon  the  earth  which 
shall  brighten  through  all  time  and  in  all  space,  un- 
til it  become  the  everlasting  lio^ht  of  the  universe.  A 
song  broke  the  stillness  of  that  night,  which  shall 
echo  forever  in  the  courts  of  the  eternal  temple.  The 
words  with  which  we  introduced  this  discourse, 
and  which  were  heard  that  night  by  the  shepherds 
of  Judea,  are  the  gladdest  and  sweetest  that  ever  fell 
upon  the  ear  of  man. 

That  hour  has  obtained  an  everlasting  name.    And 
ever,  as  it  comes  round  in  the  circle  of  the  seasons, 


THE    GLAD    TIDINGS    OF    SALVATION.  153 

holy  hymns  shall  hail  it;  crowds  shall  gather  to  the 
sanctuary ;  beautified  with  the  fir  tree,  the  pine  tree 
and  the  box  together ;  praises  and  anthems  shall  go 
up  from  thousands  who  have  found  the  Babe  of 
Bethlehem  an  almighty  Saviour;  and  the  men  of 
God  shall  stand  up  every  where,  and  proclaim 
anew  the  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which,  as  at  this 
time,  amazed  and  gladdened  the  hearts  of  those 
lowly  men,  keeping  watch  beneath  the  wintry 
heaven.  My  brethren,  we  have  met  together  on  the 
most  joyous  morning  of  the  year.  "  Behold  I  bring 
you  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  to  all 
people.  For  unto  you  is  born  this  day  in  the  city  of 
David,  a  Saviour,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord." 

We  celebrate  to  day  the  birth  of  our  Saviour.  The 
message  of  the  angel  will  lead  us  to  consider  in  what 
respects  He  is  our  Saviour,  and  also  to  reflect  upon 
the  news  of  His  birth,  as  glad  tidings  for  all  people. 

Christ  is  our  Saviour,  in  that  He  has  saved  us 
from  eternal  death,  ransomed  us  from  the  captivity 
of  the  grave,  and  delivered  us  from  the  power  of 
sin.  A  sentence  of  eternal  condemnation  had  o-one 
forth  against  every  being  who  should  rebel  against 
the  law  of  God.  From  this  condemnation  Christ 
Jesus  has  delivered  us.  But  this  clear  statement 
of  God's  word  is  met  at  once  by  the  doubts  and  mur- 
murings  of  man.  Some  doubt  whether  it  is  possi- 
ble that  the  God  of  mercy  can  visit  such  a  sentence 
upon  the  creature  of  His  hands.  Others  murmur 
against  it  as  a  stern  and  harsh  decree.  But  all 
men  will  admit  one  thing,  that  it  is  right  that  sin 
should   be  punished.     Well   then,  if  it  is  right  to 

20 


154  THE    GLAD    TIDINGS    OF    SALVATION. 

punish  it  at  all,  why  should  it  not  be  punished  for- 
ever. Here  you  are,  the  creatures  of  God,  belonging 
wholly  and  entirely  to  Him  ;  and  so  of  course  he  has 
a  right  to  require  any  thing  at  your  hands  that  He 
may  choose,  or  that  you  can  do.  He  has  given  you 
countless  mercies  and  blessings,  and  so  has  a  claim 
upon  your  gratitude  and  love.  Well,  now,  if  in  the 
face  of  these  tv/o  facts,  you  choose  to  sin,  tell  me 
what  you  can  do,  to  make  it  right  for  God  ever  to 
forgive  that  sin?  Can  you  ever  make  Him  forget  it? 
Can  you  do  any  thing  to  take  that  sin  back  ?  Once 
you  have  stood  up  against  your  Maker  and  Benefac- 
tor, and  have  said,  "  0  God,  though  Thou  art  my 
Maker,  and  hast  a  perfect  claim  upon  all  my  powers, 
I  will  not  obey  Thee ;  though  Thou  hast  covered  me 
with  mercies,  I  will  repay  thy  love  with  defiance  and 
rebellion."  Is  it  not  so,  my  brethren,  that  every 
wilful  sinner  speaks  in  his  heart  against  God  ?  Can 
you  blot  out  that  act  of  rebellion  from  the  remem- 
brance of  Jehovah?  But  you  will  say,  God  is  merciful. 
And  so  He  is.  But  He  is  holy,  and  abhors  sin.  You 
say,  I  will  repent,  and  do  good  works,  and  He  will 
forgive?  But  can  your  change  of  mind,  change  His 
righteous  law^s?  And  if  you  do  good  works,  still  your 
sin  is  present  in  the  mind  of  God  along  with  them  : 
and  the  good  works  you  are  bound  at  any  rate  to  do ; 
and  the  sin  you  were  bound  to  keep  from.  We 
think  that  this  mode  of  reasoning  will  convince  any 
thinking  man  that  the  sentence  of  eternal  condem- 
nation against  sinners  is  right  and  just.  At  any  rate, 
your  Bibles  tell  you  that  there  is  such  a  sentence 
against  us;    and   that  it  will  be  rigidly  executed. 


THE    GLAD    TIDINGS    OF    SALVATION.  155 

And  what  a  punishment  it  will  be  !  So  horrible,  that 
it  is  called  eternal  death ;  meaning  thereby  a  per- 
petual state  of  horror,  darkness,  loathsomeness  and 
decay:  To  this  state  we  are  all  doomed,  for  7ve  have 
all  sinned.  And  is  it  not  good  tidings  of  great  joy, 
that  a  Saviour  has  been  born  unto  us,  in  the  city  of 
David,  who  has  bought  us  off  from  such  a  curse  ?  Oh, 
the  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  thought  so — and 
they  know  the  blessedness  of  heaven,  and  perhaps 
have  kept  guard  around  the  prison  house  of  the  lost, 
and  have  heard  the  ceaseless  howls  and  lamentations 
with  which  it  resounds,  and  may  know  something  of 
the  horrors  of  that  place — and  when  their  ears  drank 
in  the  fflad  message  of  their  favoured  fellow  to  the 
shepherds,  they  caught  up  their  golden  harps,  and 
hurried  from  their  shining  thrones,  and  suddenly 
were  with  the  angel,  praising  God  and  saying, 
"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace, 
good  will  towards  men." 

The  Saviour  as  at  this  time  born  unto  us  has  ran- 
somed us  from  the  grave.  Is  this  a  part  of  the  mes- 
sage of  joy?  How  is  this?  The  sad  funeral  train  still 
winds  its  way  to  the  Church  yard,  and  mourners 
have  gathered  even  to  this  Christmas  feast.  It  is 
still  a  horrible  thing  to  die;  to  have  the  soul  torn 
from  its  old  companion  and  sent  forth  on  a  lonely 
journey  to  unknown  worlds ;  and  to  have  these  bodies 
dragged  down  to  the  dust,  to  be  the  food  of  grave 
worms,  and  the  sport  of  corruption.  But  the  Saviour 
whom  to  day  we  hail,  calls  Himself  the  Resurrection 
and  the  life.  Even  as  in  Adam  all  die,  so  in  Him 
all  are  to  be  made  alive.     He  took  our  nature  upon 


156  THE    GLAD    TIDINGS    OF    SALVATION. 

Him.  He  died  in  our  nature.  He  rose  in  our  na- 
ture; and  in  Him  all  of  our  nature  rose;  and  from 
Him  a  new  principle  of  life  went  forth,  which  reached 
and  endowed  with  new  powers  of  life  all  men  who 
had  ever  lived,  and  all  who  ever  are  to  live.  He 
stood  by  the  grave,  and  told  us,  what  philosophers 
never  thought  of,  and  nature  never  whispered,  and 
reason  never  proved,  that  the  dust  is  to  be  gathered 
up  again  into  the  hand  of  God,  and  moulded  into 
bodies  which  will  clothe  the  soul  forever.  And  if 
He  stands  at  the  mouth  of  the  tomb,  and  says  to  the 
disciple  as  he  draws  near  its  silent  gates  "Fear  not, 
I  will  be  with  thee;"  and  if  He  has  so  undone  the 
immense  work  of  death,  that  death  has  to  give  back 
every  one  of  the  millions  which  he  has  seized  for  his 
prey ;  has  He  not  ransomed  us  from  the  captivity  of 
the  grave?  Has  he  not  fulfilled  His  magnificent 
threatenings  against  the  conqueror  death.  "O 
death  I  will  be  thy  plague  !  O  grave !  I  will  be  thy 
destruction  !"  And  is  it  not  good  tidings  of  great  joy, 
to  men,  who  are  dying  down  by  thousands  every 
hour,  that  a  Saviour  has  been  born  to  them,  who  has 
destroyed  this  death !  The  eternal  wrath  of  God  is 
terrible ;  the  death  of  the  body  is  terrible ;  but  there 
is  something,  which  as  it  draws  both  of  these  things 
upon  us,  so  it  is  more  terrible  than  either.  I  mean 
sin.  And  from  sin  our  Saviour  has  delivered,  and 
will  deliver,  all  who  believe  in  Him.  He  became  the 
Son  of  man,  that  man  might  become  the  son  of  God; 
for  to  as  many  as  receive  Him,  to  them  gives  He 
power  to  become  the  sons  of  God,  even  to  them  that 
believe  on  His  name.     If  you  would  realise  the  great 


THE    GLAD    TIDINGS   OF    SALVATION.  157 

blessing  of  deliverance  from  sin,  you  must  consider 
its  effects  upon  the  happiness  of  man.  Sin,  you 
know,  is  the  transgression  of  the  law;  not  only  by 
outward  acts,  but  in  inward  feelings  and  principles. 
Now,  this  opposition  to  the  Law  of  God,  destroys 
the  happiness  of  every  soul  in  which  it  dwells, 
withers  its  powers,  dries  up  its  affections,  and  sends 
it  abroad  a  selfish  and  hateful  thing,  at  war  with  its 
Maker,  with  all  good  spirits,  with  its  own  wicked 
fellows,  and  with  itself  A  sinner  is  the  only  wretched 
being  in  God's  universe.  The  causes  of  this  wretch- 
edness are  readily  discovered.  A  sinner  wants  to 
have  his  own  will  done  in  all  things :  but  the  Lord 
reigneth:  and  he  is  baffled  and  checked  and  put 
down  from  time  to  time,  and  so  is  mad  with  vexation 
and  rage.  A  sinner  is  constantly  beset  by  appetites 
and  passions  that  give  him  no  rest.  He  gratifies 
them  to  day,  and  to-morrow  they  ask  again.  Each 
day  they  ask  more  loudly  and  angrily  than  the  day 
before  ;  and  each  day  are  less  and  less  appeased  by 
gratification.  The  sinner,  you  all  will  readily  see, 
alas,  we  all  feel,  is  in  a  state  of  corruption  and  bond- 
age. It  was  to  deliver  us  out  of  this  state,  that  the 
Son  of  God  was  at  this  time  born  of  a  pure  virgin, 
and  cradled  in  a  manger  at  Bethlehem.  He  meets 
the  sinner,  and  begs  him  to  leave  off  his  evil  ways. 
The  sinner,  weary  of  his  ways — for  the  way  of  trans- 
gressors is  hard — answers  Him,  "  Lord,  it  is  impos- 
sible, I  cannot  wipe  away  that  black  account  of  sins 
which  is  written  in  God's  book  of  remembrance;  and 
my  lusts  and  passions  have  bound  me  down  forever." 
Fellow  sinner,  this  Jesus,  whose  birth  we  celebrate, 


158  THE    GLAD    TIDIiXGS    OF    SALVATION. 

is  of  God  made  unto  you  "  wisdom  and  righteousness 
and  sanctili cation  and  redemption."  In  Him  you 
have  forgiveness  of  sins.  His  grace  is  sufficient  for 
you.  His  strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness. 
The  angels  who  sang  in  the  wintry  heavens,  knew 
that  wretched  man  v/as  dead  in  sin,  and  could  not 
quicken  himself;  and  because  a  Saviour  was  born, 
who  could  deliver  him  from  the  body  of  this  death, 
and  raise  him  up  to  sit  as  their  fellow,  in  heavenly 
places,  therefore  it  was  that  they  broke  forth  with 
that  sweetest  of  hymns — "Glory  to  God  in  the 
highest;  and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  towards 
men."  Ye  who  have  overcome  the  world  through 
His  grace;  ye  who  in  His  strength,  have  trampled 
lusts  and  passions  under  your  feet ;  ye  who  were 
drunken,  and  unclean,  envious  and  hateful,  and  are 
now  sober  and  pure,  compassionate  and  merciful; 
tell  us  whether  gladder  news  ever  reached  your 
ears,  than  the  tidings  of  the  birth  of  Jesus  Christ? 

Thus,  my  brethren,  Christ  the  Lord,  who  was  as 
at  this  time  born  to  us  in  the  City  of  David,  is  our 
Saviour,  in  that  He  has  saved  us  from  eternal  death, 
ransomed  us  from  the  captivity  of  the  grave,  and 
delivered  us  from  the  power  of  sin.  We  have  just 
as  it  Avere  but  mentioned  old  and  familiar  truths. 
We  have  not  said  these  things  because  you  know 
them  not,  but  because  ye  know  them.  But  on  this 
holy  day,  w^hen  we  are  rejoicing  at  our  Saviour's 
birth,  it  is  needful  that  we  all  should  be  reminded  for 
what  that  Saviour  was  born. 

The  tidings  which  the  Angel  brought,  are  glad 
tidings  of  great  joy  to  all  people.     Alas !  this  fact, 


THE    GLAD   TIDINGS   OF    SALVATION.  159 

joyous  as  it  may  seem,  awakens  sad  recollections  and 
sadder  thoughts  in  the  mind  of  the  Christian.  While 
the  sounds  of  joy  are  every  where  about  us,  we  can- 
not forget  that  there  are  multitudes  to  whom  this 
Festival  brings  no  cause  of  gladness.  Well  may  we 
feel  sad,  as  we  shout  hosannas  to  our  Lord,  to  think 
that  there  are  nations  who  have  never  heard  His 
name.  Well  may  it  shed  a  gloom  over  the  altars, 
dressed  in  living  verdure,  to  know  that  on  this  very 
day,  there  will  be  countless  knees  bent  at  the  shrines 
of  false  gods.  Well  may  it  almost  hush  the  voice  of 
gladness  by  the  full  board  to  think  of  the  vice,  the 
squalidness  and  the  misery  of  the  degraded  men  and 
neglected  children  who  crowd  the  dwellings  of  pagan 
lands.  More  than  eighteen  hundred  years  have 
passed  since  it  was  first  announced  that  the  glad 
tidings  of  this  day  were  to  all  people  ;  and  as  yet  not 
one-third  part  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  are  even 
Christians  by  name.  And  alas,  there  are  causes  for 
sadness  nearer  home,  even  at  our  own  doors!  Are 
there  not  those  present,  who  are  utterly  indifferent  to 
the  great  salvation  which  we  preach?  Are  there 
not  those  here,  who  have,  time  and  again,  rejected 
Christ  their  Lord  ?  When  the  hymns  of  praise  and 
the  solemn  thanksgivings  went  up  to  God,  were 
there  no  voices  which  refused  to  lend  their  aid  ? 
Were  there  not  hearts  which  laffored  behind,  and 
clung  to  the  miserable  and  perishing  things  of  earth, 
and  would  not  rejoice  in  God  their  Saviour  ?  Are 
there  not  men  and  women,  old  and  young,  in  this 
church,  who  feel  no  joy  whatever  at  the  news  of  the 
birth  of  Him  who  came  to  be  their   Saviour,  and 


IGO  THE    GLAD    TIDINGS    OF    SALVATION. 

whom  they  will  not  have  for  their  Saviour  ?  And 
why  are  these  things  so  ?  We  are  all  sinners ;  and 
is  not  sin  a  burden  ?  We  are  all  dying  men ;  and  is 
not  death  terrible  ?  We  are  all  condemned  to  end- 
less sorrow,  without  Christ ;  and  is  not  that  a  doom 
fearful  enough  to  bring  you  to  Bethlehem,  to  see  this 
thing  which  is  come  to  pass,  which  the  Lord  hath 
made  known  to  us? 

Christians,  the  gospel  which  we  preach,  is  good 
tidings  of  great  joy  to  all  people.  If  then  these  hymns, 
and  prayers  and  praises,  mean  anything ;  if  these 
green  laurels,  fitting  emblems  of  joy,  mean  anything ; 
if  the  service  of  this  day  be  not  mere  lip  service  and 
eye  service ;  if  ye  have  brought  your  hearts  along 
with  you  to  the  Lord,  strain  every  nerve,  pour  out 
unceasing  strains  of  heartfelt  prayer,  be  lavish  with 
your  silver  and  your  gold,  until  the  tidings,  which 
have  made  you  glad,  have  echoed  on  every  mountain 
and  every  plain,  by  the  oceans  and  the  rivers,  over 
the  islands  of  the  sea,  in  the  frozen  north,  and  in 
the  vallies  of  the  sunny  south ;  until  the  morning  of 
Christmas  day,  shall  find,  as  it  breaks  brightly  on  our 
earth,  righteousnes,  and  holiness,  and  peace,  and  joy 
and  gladness  in  every  homestead  and  habitation  of 
man !  If  you  are  not  striving,  longing  and  praying  that 
such  blessed  times  may  be  hastened,  your  present 
service  is  a  mockery  of  the  Lord  whom  you  profess 
to  honour ;  and  this  solemn  feast-day  is  an  abomina- 
tion to  Him  whose  birth  it  commemorates. 

And  ye,  who  are  not  Christ's,  who  have  come  up 
with  us  to  our  sanctuary  on  the  day  which  the  Lord 
hath  made,   will   you   not  ponder  well  the  angel's 


THE    GLAD    TIDINGS    OF    SALVATION.  161 

words — "behold  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great 
joy  which  shall  be  to  all  people."  This  message  is 
to  you,  and  you  have  a  part  in  the  great  salvation 
which  has  been  raised  up  in  the  house  of  David. 
For  you  the  angels  rejoiced ;  for  you  they  sang  their 
sweet  and  solemn  hymns;  for  you  this  Saviour  is 
born.  Will  you  not  make  this,  beloved  friends,  a 
day  of  days  to  you?  Oh,  you  awoke  this  morning 
and  had  not  a  word  of  thankfulness  for  the  gift  of  the 
Son  of  God.  Will  you  not,  before  you  lay  your 
heads  on  your  pillows  this  night,  put  up  at  least  a 
short  prayer,  that  the  great  blessings  of  this  day  may 
not  be  poured  in  vain  on  you?  An  inheritance  is 
this  day  offered  you,  so  glorious  that  words  cannot 
describe  it?  Will  you  not  accept  it?  Christ  gave 
himself  for  you.  Will  you  not  give  yourselves  to 
Him  ?  He  left  thrones  and  dominions  for  you !  Will 
you  not  give  up  a  few  paltry  unsatisfying  pleasures 
for  Him  ?  Bow  down  your  hearts,  we  pray  you,  be- 
fore the  Babe  of  Bethlehem ;  and  again,  as  centuries 
ago,  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  shall  be  glad ; 
they  shall  rejoice  that  for  another,  and  another  ran- 
somed soul,  their  visit  to  earth  was  not  in  vain.  And 
as  they  think  again  upon  the  unsearchable  greatness 
of  God's  love  to  man,  they  shall  bow  down  before 
the  throne,  praising  Him  and  saying,  *'  Glory  to  God 
in  the  highest;  and  on  earth,  peace;  good  will  to- 
wards men." 


21 


SERMON  XIII. 

KEEPING  THE  BODY  UNDER. 

[  For  Septuagesima  Sunday.] 

But  I  keep  under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjection ;  lest  that  by 

any  means,  when  I  have  preached  to  others,  I  myself  should  be 

a  cast  away. 

1st  Corinthians,  ix,  27. 

The  city  of  Corinth  was  celebrated  for  its  periodi- 
cal games,  to  the  celebration  of  which  persons  came 
from  all  parts  of  Greece.  To  these  games  the 
apostle  alludes  in  the  verses  preceding  the  text :  and 
intimates  that  Christians  should  take  as  much  pains 
in  being  temperate  in  all  things,  and  in  preparing 
themselves  for  their  spiritual  race  and  warfare,  as 
were  the  wrestlers,  boxers  and  racers  at  the  games, 
in  fitting  themselves  for  their  trials  of  strength  and 
skill.  He  then  goes  on  to  give  us  a  piece  of  his  pri- 
vate religious  history,  and  informs  us  of  the  manner 
in  which  he  found  it  necessary  to  discipline  himself, 
that  he  might  successfully  press  forward  in  the 
heavenward  race,  and  gain  the  mastery  in  his  despe- 
rate struggle  with  fleshly  lusts  and  the  powers  of 
darkness.  ''I  keep  under  my  body  and  bring  it 
into  subjection ;"  which  words  mean,  that  by  sternly 
denying  to  the  cravings  of  appetite  and  passion 
even  things  which  might  carefully  be  allowed  them, 


KEEPING   TitE    BODY    UNDER.  163 

he  made  his  body,  his  slave  and  servant,  obedient  to 
the  dictates  of  his  immortal  soul.  We  shall  treat  of 
the  means  that  St.  Paul  probably  took  to  keep  under 
his  body  and  bring  it  into  subjection,  and  the  mode 
in  which  that  means  when  rightly  used,  conduces 
not  only  to  sanctification  and  growth  in  grace,  but 
also  to  strengthen  resistance  to  sin. 

The  way  which  St.  Paul  took  to  keep  under  his 
body,  and  to  bring  it  into  subjection  was  of  course 
something  which  commenced  or  was  connected  with 
his  body:  and  so  we  cannot  suppose  that  it  was 
prayer  by  itself,  or  any  other  exercise  merely  spi- 
ritual. What  it  was  we  must  gather  from  other 
places  in  his  writings.  In  giving  an  account  of  the 
manner  in  which  he  approved  himself  as  a  minister 
of  God,  he  mentions,  among  other  things,  watchings 
and  fastings ;  and  in  relating  all  that  he  did  and  suf- 
fered in  the  cause  of  Christ,  he  tells  us  that  he  was 
in  watchings  often,  and  in  fastings  often.  These  two 
places  throw  much  light  upon  the  text,  and  from 
them  we  learn  that  by  robbing  himself  of  sleep  for 
the  purpose  of  watching  unto  prayer,  and  by  abstain- 
ing from  food  for  certain  periods,  he  sought  to  sub- 
due the  flesh  to  the  spirit,  and  to  mortify  his  mem- 
bers upon  the  earth.  Fasting  or  abstinence,  as  it  is 
indifferently  called,  is  the  subject  more  particularly 
to  be  brought  under  your  notice  to  day.  And  we  beg 
you  to  give  us  your  particular  attention  :  because  it 
is  to  be  feared  that  this  duty  is  too  much  neglected 
by  Christians,  and  because  we  are  soon  to  enter  upon 
the  ancient  Lenten  fast  which  for  so  many  ages  has 
been  hallowed  in  the  Church  ;  and  a  full  considera- 


164  KEEPING    THE    BODY    UNDER. 

tion  of  this  duty  may,  by  God's  blessing,  enable  us  to 
spend  that  holy  time  to  more  spiritual  profit  than  we 
have  ever  before  done. 

We  believe  fasting  to  be  clearly  set  forth  as  a  duty 
in  the  Bible;  and  to  prove  this  we  shall  give  you 
one  or  two  arguments  from  the  New  Testament 
Scripture,  only.  Our  Saviour  gives  directions  as  to 
the  manner  in  which  men  should  fast,  that  they 
should  not  go  about  with  a  sad  countenance,  that 
they  might  seem  unto  men  to  fast :  but  to  perform 
that  duty  privately,  and  without  shew.  Now  had  he 
not  intended  and  wished  that  his  disciples  should 
fast,  he  would  not  of  course  have  been  at  the  pains 
to  tell  them  how  to  do  it.  Moreover,  He  expressly 
foretold  that  after  He  was  removed  from  earth, 
His  Church  would  fast;  "the  disciples  of  John  came 
to  Him  saying,  why  do  we  and  the  Pharisees  fast  oft, 
but  thy  disciples  fast  not.  And  Jesus  said,  can  the 
children  of  the  bride-chamber  mourn  as  long  as  the 
bridegroom  is  with  them?  but  the  days  will  come, 
when  the  bridegroom  shall  be  taken  from  them,  and 
then  shall  they  fast."  With  these  sayings  of  our 
Saviour,  put  the  following  facts,  whicli  we  find  re- 
corded in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles.  Cornelius  was 
fasting  and  praying  at  the  time  that  God's  angel 
sought  him  with  a  message  of  mercy ;  and  before 
Saul  and  Barnabas  were  sent  forth  on  a  certain  mis- 
sion, the  prophets  and  teachers  of  the  Church  joined 
with  them  not  only  in  prayer,  but  also  in  fasting. 
Add  to  all  this  the  fact  that  St.  Paul  himself  used 
this  instrument,  and  thought  it  necessary  to  do  it  for 
his  soul's  health,  and  you  will  have  evidence  enough 


KEEPING  THE  BODY  UNDER.  165 

as  to  what  is  the  will  of  Christ,  and  the  mind  of  the 
Spirit,  upon  this  subject. 

And  if  the  Scripture  be  clear  upon  this  point,  this 
Church  is  no  less  so.  Using  that  authority  wdth 
which  her  Lord  has  entrusted  her,  she  has  appointed 
many  days  throughout  the  year,  for  the  performance 
of  this  duty,  on  M^hich  she  ^'requires  such  a  measure 
of  abstinence  as  is  more  especially  suited  to  extraor- 
dinary acts  or  exercises  of  devotion."  These  days 
are  Ash  Wednesday,  Good  Friday,  the  forty  days  of 
Lent,  the  Ember  days  at  the  four  seasons,  the  three 
Rogation  days,  and  all  the  Fridays  in  the  year  ex- 
cept Christmas  day.  And  we  see  not  how  we  can 
call  ourselves  consistent  members  of  the  Church,  un- 
less we  strive,  according  to  our  ability  and  opportu- 
nity, to  follow  the  rules  which  she  has  laid  down,  to 
guide  us  in  the  performance  of  the  scriptural  duty  of 
fasting. 

Of  the  manner  in  which  this  duty  should  be  per- 
formed, our  branch  of  the  Church  has  given  no  par- 
ticular direction.  The  collect  for  the  first  Sunday 
in  Lent  gives  us  the  best  general  rule :  that  is,  to 
use  such  abstinence  that  the  great  end  of  fasting  may 
be  attained,  that  the  flesh  or  carnal  desires  in  Chris- 
tians may  be  subdued  unto  the  spirit.  All  have  not 
the  same  strength,  and  all  have  not  the  same  needs. 
Only  take  care  that  your  fast  be  consistent :  and  do 
not  as  the  manner  of  some  is,  prepare  for  it,  and 
make  up  for  it,  by  gluttony,  before  and  afterwards.  If 
you  cannot  abstain  from  food  throughout  the  day; 
abstain  from  one  or  tw^o  meals :  if  you  cannot  do  even 
that,  then  imitate  holy  David,  drink  no  wine  and  eat 


166  KEEPING   THE    BODY   UNDER. 

no  pleasant  bread,  using  only  the  coarsest  fare,  and 
that  sparingly.  Above  all,  be  careful  to  use  fasting, 
with  prayer,  retirement,  and  also  alms  giving.  Pass 
the  time  that  you  would  have  spent  at  your  meals, 
in  your  closet  in  meditation  and  pious  reading  and 
prayer,  and  give  what  you  may  save  from  the  ex- 
pense of  the  table  to  the  poor  and  needy.  And  in 
this  way  your  fast  shall  keep  the  soul  and  body  in 
health,  and  be  acceptable  to  the  Lord. 

We  have  thus  showed  you  what  was  the  means 
which  St.  Paul  took  to  keep  under  his  body  and 
bring  it  into  subjection ;  and  also  the  scriptural  and 
ecclesiastical  authority,  for  the  use  to  this  means. 
I  have  also  given  you  one  or  two  hints,  as  to  the  best 
way  of  using  it.  We  shall  now  try  to  show  you  that 
fasting,  when  rightly  used,  enables  us  to  resist  temp- 
tation, and  to  grow  in  grace  and  holiness. 

Fasting  teaches  us  and  forms  in  us  the  habit  of  self 
denial.  When  we  are  tempted  to  commit  sin,  we 
are  generally  tempted  to  do  something  which  is,  or 
seems,  or  promises,  to  be  pleasant  to  us.  Now,  if  we 
make  it  the  great  business  of  our  lives  to  please  our- 
selves, we  shall  be  falling,  into  sin  the  whole  time ; 
and  shall  be  utterly  unable  to  deny  our  passions  and 
appetites,  every  object  for  which  they  may  clamour 
or  rage ;  and  the  more  we  give  into  any  wrong  de- 
sires, the  more  we  are  called  upon  and  compelled  to 
give  in.  Every  body  who  has  lived  in  the  habit  and 
indulgence  of  any  wrong  appetite  or  passion,  will 
tell  you  that  this  statement  is  true.  And  on  the 
other  hand,  the  more  a  man  accustoms  himself  to 
deny  his  appetite,  the  easier  it  is  to  deny  it.     The 


KEEPING  THE  BODY  UNDER.         167 

first  time  we  overcome  a  temptation,  we  have  a  much 
harder  struggle  than  the  second;  and  the  second 
strife  is  harder  than  the  third;  and  so  on.  Now  to 
eat  and  drink  of  such  things  as  may  be  needful  and 
pleasant,  is  a  lawful  indulgence.  But  if  any  one  is 
accustomed  to  restrain  and  mortify  his  appetite  as  a 
religious  duty,  to  deny  it  even  its  just  cravings,  for 
the  purposes  of  prayer  and  other  devotions,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  it  will  be  much  easier  for  him  to  deny  to  his 
appetite  unholy  and  unlawful  indulgences,  than  it 
would  otherwise  have  been.  For  it  is  much  harder 
to  deny  ourselves  things  which  we  might  have  law- 
fully, than  those  things  which  it  is  sinful  to  have 
and  use.  Because  in  the  latter  case  we  are  restrained 
by  fear  of  God,  by  conscience,  or  by  a  desire  to  have  a 
good  name  with  men :  none  of  which  motives  effect 
us  in  permitted  indulgences.  And  if  a  man  is  able  to 
mortify  his  appetites  and  desires,  when  he  might  law- 
fully gratify  them,  how  much  more  easily  can  he  do 
it  when,  indulgence  would  be  sin.  So  then  you  can 
thus  see  how  regular  and  conscientious  fasting  forms 
in  us  habits  of  self  denial,  or  naturally  tends  to  give 
us  strength  to  resist  temptation. 

Moreover,  fasting  actually  weakens  the  force  of 
appetite  and  passion,  and  so  makes  it  a  compara- 
tively easy  work  to  overcome  them.  If  you  doubt 
this,  we  ask  you  to  compare  the  state  of  the  person 
weakened  by  long  sickness,  and  of  one  who  is  in  rude 
health  and  full  of  bread.  Take  the  single  passion 
of  pride,  for  instance,  in  two  persons  who  have  natur- 
ally an  equal  share  of  it.  The  strong  man,  of  pam- 
pered appetite,  is  full  of  pride,  and  moves  among  his 


168  KEEPING  THE  BODY  UNDER. 

fellow  men,  as  if  he  needed  nothing  from  them :  while 
the  sick  man  is  humble  and  gentle  and  child-like,  and 
speaks  and  acts  at  if  he  depended  "upon  those  about 
him,  for  succour  and  all  kind  offices.  Now,  throw- 
ing all  supernatural  influence  out  of  the  question, 
what  has  made  the  difference  between  the  two?  The 
strength  of  the  rich  man  has  been  brought  low,  his 
animal  spirits  diminished,  and  with  them  his  lofty 
pride.  Now,  a  similar  eflect  will  be  produced  on  the 
body  by  systematic  fasting.  All  the  various  lusts 
and  passions,  which  strive  to  bind  down  the  soul  in 
fleshly  chains,  are  weakened  and  brought  low:  so 
that  the  soul  can  walk  freely  among  them,  and  assert 
her  mastery  over  them,  having  them  for  her  minis- 
ters and  slaves. 

Fasting  also  helps  prayer  and  devotion.  We  are 
sure  that  many  words  are  not  necessary  to  prove  this 
point.  We  will  only  ask  j^ou  at  what  period  of  the 
day  the  soul  mounts  most  readily  and  easily  to  God. 
Is  it  not  always  in  the  morning,  before  the  wants  of 
the  body  are  attended  to?  Or  when  is  it  that  we  feel 
least  in  the  humour  for  prayer?  When  is  it  that 
meditation  is  most  tiresome,  and  God's  word  most 
dull?  Is  it  not  when  we  have  just  left  the  full  board, 
and  the  cravings  of  appetite  have  been  more  than 
appeased?  Perhaps  some  of  you  will  be  disposed  to 
say  that  this  is  taking  a  low  view  of  the  subject,  but 
let  us  beg  you  to  look  back  at  the  text.  Remember 
that  the  spiritually  minded  Paul  found  it  necessary 
to  bring  under  his  body,  and  keep  it  in  subjection ; 
and  then  we  are  sure  that  you  cannot  blame  us  for 
showing  you  that  fasting  tends  to  bring  under  the 


KEEPING  THE  BODY  UNDER.         169 

body.  And  let  us  remind  you  here,  that  God  has 
made  some  of  the  most  wonderful  revelations  of  His 
will  and  ways  to  men  who  were  fasting-.  Moses  fast- 
ed forty  days  and  nights  before  he  received  the  law ; 
and  while  Daniel  was  fasting  and  praying,  the  angel 
Gabriel  came  to  give  him  skill  and  understanding. 
It  is  ever  when  the  flesh  is  subded  unto  the  spirit, 
that  the  soul  is  most  ready  to  hear  the  whispers  of 
its  God ;  for  then  it  is  nearest  to  His  throne. 

Lastly,  the  act  of  fasting  enables  us  to  realize 
things  unseen  and  eternal,  more  perfectly,  perhaps, 
than  any  other  act  of  religion.  We  mean,  of  course, 
in  every  man's  own  mind.  We  think  that,  with  few 
exceptions,  no  Christian  can  fast  habitually,  and  con- 
scientiously, without  being  in  good  sober  earnest 
about  getting  to  heaven,  and  pleasing  God.  On  the 
other  hand,  except  in  some  strongly  marked  cases  of 
hypocrisy,  no  worldly-minded  person  will  fast  regu- 
larly and  frequently.  The  act,  then,  being  one  that 
belongs  so  strictly  and  peculiarly  to  the  Christian, 
and  being  so  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  world,  its 
right  performance  brings  heavenly  and  spiritual 
things  very  clearly  before  the  mind.  Fasting  is  a 
strong  confession  to  ourselves  that  this  earth  is  not 
our  rest;  that  we  were  not  sent  here  to  be  perfectly 
happy;  but  that  our  affections  are  to  be  turned  away, 
as  it  were,  from  all  these  things,  about  which  they 
love  to  twine,  and  be  fixed  upon  those  things  which 
mortal  men  see  not,  and  for  which  flesh  and  blood 
never  crave. 

We  trust  that  you  will  be  thus  convinced  of  the 
spiritual  benefit  and  efficacy  of  fasting,  and  so  be  led 

22 


170  KEEPING    THE    BODY    UNDER. 

to  practice  it  for  yourselves.  We  fear  that  this  duty 
is  too  much  neglected  in  these  times;  but  it  was  not 
so  in  the  best  ages  of  the  Church.  It  was  called  by 
the  ancient  doctors  of  the  Church,  in  the  words  of  a 
great  and  pious  Bishop,  "  the  nourishment  of  prayer, 
the  restraint  of  lust,  the  wings  of  the  soul,  the  diet 
of  angels,  the  instrument  of  humility  and  self-denial, 
and  the  purification  of  the  spirit."  The  holy  men 
who  gave  these  names  to  fasting,  used  it  constantly 
and  faithfully;  and  their  equals  in  piety  and  faith- 
fulness, in  spirituality,  in  love,  in  meekness  and 
humility,  the  world  never  saw.  My  brethren,  if  we 
used  more  the  ancient  discipline  of  the  saints,  we 
should  enjoy  more  of  their  peace  and  blessedness, 
their  sense  of  the  favour  of  God,  and  their  mighty 
conquest  over  sin. 

One  word  of  caution  to  any  who  may  be  led  to  set 
about  the  performance  of  this  duty.  You  will  be 
tempted  to  lay  it  aside  altogether  after  the  first  few 
trials,  to  think  it  a  vain,  unprofitable  exercise.  Pain- 
ful undoubtedly  it  will  be  and  distasteful  to  our  na- 
tural desires ;  but  "  they  that  would  be  Christ's, 
must  crucify  the  flesh  with  its  affections  and  lusts." 
We  must  not  expect  that  this  work  will  be  pleasant. 
If  you  wish  to  derive  benefit  you  must  get  into  the 
habit  of  fasting;  and  then  the  increase  in  holy  joy, 
which  you  will  experience,  the  freedom  in  prayer 
which  you  will  have,  the  calm  meditation  and 
solemn  retirement  of  your  fast-days,  will  make 
them  the  happiest  and  most  peaceful  of  the  whole 
year.  But  if  you  would  gain  these  benefits  and  joys, 
you  must  persevere  in  the  duty,  in  spite  of  the  loud 


KEEPING  THE  BODY  UNDER.         171 

remonstrance  of  your  natural  inclinations.  Or,  per- 
haps, in  obedience  to  the  requirements  of  the  Church, 
you  may  acquire  the  habit  of  fasting,  and  enjoy  its 
use  as  an  instrument  of  religion.  It  may  be  that 
Satan  will  tempt  you  to  think  such  things  of  your- 
self, and  to  despise  others  who  may  not  take  the 
same  views  of  this  duty  as  you  do.  But  it  should 
seem  that  a  fresh  reflection  upon  one  of  the  reasons 
of  fasting  would  beat  down  all  such  thouohts.  We 
fast  because  we  are  miserable  sinners,  liable  to  be 
brought  into  captivity  by  base  lusts  and  desires:  and 
if  with  this  thought  in  the  mind,  a  man  prides  himself 
in  acts  of  fasting  and  humiliation,  he  will  soon  think 
it  reasonable  in  the  sick  man  to  be  fond  of  the  dis- 
tasteful medicine  to  which  disease  prompts  him  to 
resort. 

My  brethren,  we  wish  all  of  you,  whether  sancti- 
fied, or  living  in  sin ;  whether  members  of  the  Church 
or  not,  to  weigh  well  the  words  of  our  text.  "  I  keep 
under  my  body  and  bring  it  into  subjection,  lest  that 
by  any  means,  when  I  have  preached  to  others  I 
myself  should  be  a  cast  away."  If  St.  Paul,  who  had 
seen  the  Lord  face  to  face,  who  was  caught  up  into 
paradise  and  into  heaven,  and  was  endowed  with 
wonderful  gifts  and  powers,  thought  it  necessary  to 
take  such  heed  lest  he  should  be  lost  forever,  how 
can  you  expect  to  be  saved  unless  you  imitate  his 
holy  watchfulness  and  practice  his  stern  discipline? 
If  he,  in  afflictions,  in  necessities,  in  distress,  in  stripes, 
in  imprisonments,  in  tumults,  and  labours,  still  labour- 
ed to  bring  under  his  body  and  keep  it  in  subjection, 
how  much  more  ousfht  we  to  take  order  for  the  same 


172  KEEPING   THE    BODY    UNDER. 

thing,  surrounded  as  most  of  us  are,  with  comforts 
and  luxuries,  which  so  often  draw  back  the  heart 
from  things  above.  If  the  body  be  not  brought  into 
subjection  to  the  soul,  the  soul  must  be  under  the 
dominion  of  the  body.  Your  natural  servants  will 
become  your  stern  tyrants  here,  and  your  everlasting 
scourges  hereafter.  When  the  soul  which  served 
the  passions  and  appetites  of  the  body  on  earth,  shall 
return  to  its  old  habitation  in  the  general  resurrection 
at  the  last  day,  it  will  probably  come  again  under  the 
dominion  of  its  lusts.  They  will  awaken  from  their 
long  sleep  with  ten  thousand  fold  fury.  They  will 
seize  upon  their  former  victim.  They  will  crave  for 
ever  and  ever ;  and  be  appeased  not  even  for  a  single 
moment.  It  is  probably  as  true  in  eternity  as  in 
time,  "he  that  soweth  to  the  flesh,  shall  of  the  flesh 
reap  corruption."  My  dear  brethren,  we  beseech  all 
of  you  to  mortify  your  members  which  are  upon  the 
earth.  Hard  as  it  may  be  to  do,  nail  your  affections 
and  lusts  to  the  blood-stained  cross,  and  with  Christ 
die  to  this  present  world !  Sow  to  the  Spirit;  and  in 
the  world  to  come — blessed  Paul,  if  you  could  speak 
to  us,  how  exultingly  would  you  attest  the  truth  of 
this  cheering  promise! — you  shall,  of  the  Spirit, 
reap  a  glorious  and  everlasting  harvest  of  eternal  life. 


SERMON   XIV. 

EVERY  CHRISTIAN  A  MISSIONARY. 

That  which  we  have  seen  and  heard,  declare  we  unto  you,  that  ye 
also  may  have  fellowship  with  us. 

1.  John,  i.  3. 

In  these  words  the  beloved  disciple  declares  the  rea- 
sons, and  the  object  for  which  he  Avrote  his  epistle. 
Having  personally  known  the  Saviour,  having  leaned 
upon  His  bosom,  heard  His  most  confidential  dis- 
courses, and  enjoyed  His  love,  the  Apostle  writes  to 
others,  that  which  he  himself  had  seen  and  heard, 
that  they  might  share  with  him  in  the  same  inesti- 
mable privileges,  blessings  and  hopes.  These  words 
will  lead  us  to  the  consideration  of  a  duty  into  which 
every  one  of  us  was  baptized,  namely,  to  do  all  in  our 
power  to  spread  the  blessings  of  that  Gospel,  which 
we  enjoy,  among  those  who  know  not  of  them,  or 
knowing,  have  never  been  led  to  experience  and  enjoy 
them.  Various  v/ays  of  discharging  this  duty  have 
been  from  time  to  time,  most  faithfully  and  plainly 
set  before  you,  by  him  who  is  over  us  in  the  Lord. 
You  have  been  told,  that  we  must  give  of  our  sub- 
stance to  the  Lord ;  that  our  prayers  must  ascend 
unceasingly  that  the  kingdoms  and  nations  of  the 
earth,  that  every  member  of  the  great  human  family, 
may  become  kingdoms  of  Christ,  and  spiritual  child- 
ren of  God.  We  purpose  to  speak  to  night,  of  that 
part  of  the  duty,  which  is  to  be  performed  by  Chris- 


174  EVERY    CHRISTIAN    A    MISSIONARY. 

tians  in  their  own  persons,  and  not  by  their  duly  ap- 
pointed agents.  When  you  pour  your  silver  and 
gold  into  the  treasury  of  the  Lord,  the  Church,  by 
her  ministers,  is  your  agent  for  carrying  into  effect 
your  wishes  and  desires,  for  the  extension  of  the  Re- 
deemer's kingdom.  But  in  a  modest,  unostentatious 
and  limited  way,  every  Christian  can  do,  and  is 
solemnly  bound  to  do,  more  than  this,  for  the  cause  of 
religion.  He  may,  and  lie  can,  if  it  please  God,  be 
the  instrument,  in  his  own  person,  of  carrying  a 
saving  knowledge  of  God,  to  the  hearts  and  minds  of 
some  who  are  living  without  hope  in  the  world ;  and 
that  too,  without  at  all  intruding  into  the  office,  or 
overreaching  upon  the  functions  of  those,  whom 
Christ  has  especially  consecrated  to  this  glorious 
v7ork ;  those  ministers  of  whom  he  has  spoken,  the 
serious  and  ever  to  be  remembered  words  "he  that 
heareth  you,  heareth  Me;  and  he  that  despiseth  you, 
despiseth  Me  J' 

We  would  regard,  then,  every  Christian  as  a  Mis- 
sionary.  Is  it  so  ?  And  how  may  he  best  perform  his 
appropriate  work  ? 

We  think  that  we  can  prove,  that  every  private 
Christian  is  bound  to  act  as  a  Missionary  of  Jesus 
Christ,  in  a  certain  sense.  In  what  sense,  will  be  in- 
directly shown,  under  the  second  head  of  our  dis- 
course; from  certain  facts  in  Scripture,  and  from  the 
reasonableness  of  the  thing  itself  We  read  in  St. 
John's  Gopel,  that  Andrew,  Simon  Peter's  brother 
when  directed  to  the  Lamb  of  God,  by  the  Baptist, 
"  first  findeth  his  own  brother  Simon,  and  saith  unto 
him,  we  have  found  the  Messias,  which  is,  being  inter- 


EVERY    CHRISTIAN    A    MISSIONARY.  175 

preted,  the  Christ.  And  he  brought  him  to  Jesus." 
Now  this  is  precisely  what  we  wish  all  Christians  to 
do,  when  we  say,  that  they  should  all  act  as  Mission- 
aries. We  who  have  found  Christ  (if  any  of  us  have 
been  so  blessed)  have  all  of  us  either  brother,  sisters, 
connexions,  friends,  neighbours,  children,  depend- 
ants and  servants,  who  know  Him  not.  Let  all  of  us 
imitate  Andrew — tell  them  that  we  have  found  the 
Christ,  and  have  been  found  of  Him,  and  bring  them 
unto  Jesus.  And  what  an  incalculable  amount  of 
good,  God  may  give  us  to  do,  in  this  way  !  We  our- 
selves may  be  rude  of  speech,  unapt  to  teach,  unfit- 
ted from  a  want  of  genius,  or  talents  or  acquire- 
ments, to  make  a  strong  impression,  and  to  exercise 
an  extensive  influence  upon  the  mass  of  men ;  but 
God  may  bless  our  efforts,  to  the  conversion  and 
sanctification  of  some  individual  of  great  powers  and 
abilities,  who  may  stir  up,  like  Paul,  whole  nations, 
by  his  eloquence,  and  by  his  life,  and  his  preaching 
be  the  means  of  awakening  thousands  in  Christian 
lands,  from  their  sleep  of  sin  and  indifference,  or  of 
bringing  multitudes  from  heathen  darkness,  into 
God's  marvellous  light.  And  who,  in  that  case, 
would  be  the  world's  greatest  benefactor?  The  su- 
perficial reader  of  the  Bible,  would  point  to  St.  Peter 
as  a  far  more  useful  and  eminent  Apostle,  than  his 
brother;  yet  it  was  his  brother  who  brought  him 
to  Christ.  The  multitude  of  religious  men,  have 
thanked  God  for  the  wisdom,  the  learning,  the  piety, 
and  the  useful  labours  of  St.  Augustine,  the  famous 
Bishop  of  Hippo;  the  more  thoughtful  Christian,  is 
disposed  to  dwell  with  gratitude,  upon  the  tears  and 


176  EVERY    CHRISTIAN    A    MISSIONARY. 

prayers,  and  persevering-  exhortations  of  his  devoted 
mother  Monica.  Thus  often  is  it,  that  the  greatest 
benefactors  of  men,  are  those  the  least  known  and 
unobserved.  The  broad  river  that  fertiUzes  exten- 
sive territories,  and  bears  upon  its  surface  vessels 
richly  laden  with  the  produce  of  its  banks,  is  known 
to  all  men.  The  deep  spring,  from  whence  it  has 
its  source,  hidden  in  the  cavern  of  some  distant  hill, 
is  seen  alone  by  God.  Christian,  if  thou  wilt  imi- 
tate Andrew,  and  endeavour  to  lead  some  brother  to 
Jesus,  thou  mayest  be,  as  it  were,  the  spring  to  'a 
stream  that  shall  bear  thousands  to  the  haven  of  ever- 
lasting rest. 

In  the  same  way  with  Andrew,  Philip  went  to  Na- 
thaniel, when  he  had  found  Christ.  But  the  fact  to 
which  we  ask  particular  attention,  is  that  recorded  in 
the  8th  chapter  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles;  where  we 
read  that  they  which  were  scattered  abroad  in  the 
persecution  of  the  Church,  at  Jerusalem,  went  every 
where  preaching  the  word.  We  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  the  persons  here  spoken  of,  were,  private 
Christians  or  Laymen ;  though  from  the  expression, 
preaching,  we  have  no  ground  to  think  that  they 
acted  as  public  ambassadors  of  Christ.  The  word 
preaching,  means  in  this  place,  simply  the  telling  of 
good  news.  The  same  word  occurs  in  the  5th  verse 
of  the  same  chapter,  in  our  translation,  where  we  are 
told  that  Philip,  the  Deacon,  went  down  to  the  city 
of  Samaria,  and  preached  Christ  unto  them ;  but  the 
word  in  the  original  tongue,  is  quite  another  word 
from  that  which  expresses  what  was  done  by  those 
private  Christians  who  were  scattered  abroad  in  the 


i 


1^ 


EVERY    CHRISTIAN    A    MISSIONARY.  177 

persecution.  The  former  word  means  to  proclaim 
as  a  herald— that  is,  to  preach  publicly — the  latter, 
simply"(as  I  just  now  said)  to  tell  good  news;  which 
may  be  done,  you  know,  either  in  private  or  public. 
As  w^e  no  where  find  that  these  private  men  ever  un- 
dertake to  administer  the  holy  sacraments,  or  to 
found  and  gather  Churches,  and  from  the  remark- 
able difference  between  the  word  which  describes 
their  teaching,  and  that  which  describes  the  teach- 
ing of  Philip,  the  Deacon ;  we  conclude  that  these 
Laymen,  wherever  they  were,  went  from  house 
to  house,  telling  all  whom  they  met,  or  with  whom 
they  conversed,  of  Christ,  of  what  He  had  done  for 
their  own  souls,  and  of  what  He  is  ever  ready  to  do 
to  all  who^  will  come  to  Him  in  his  appointed  ways. 
So  then  we  have  clear  evidence  in  the  Acts  of  the 
Apostles,  that  private  Christians  not  only  gave  alms, 
and  prayed  for  the  cause  of  Christ,  but  also  used 
personal  efforts  to  advance  it;  and  unless  the  religion 
of  Christ  has  changed,  and  the  state  of  the  world  no 
longer  requires  it,  (which  will  hardly  be  affirmed)  we 
have  strong  grounds  on  which  to  stand,  and  urge 
Christians  to  use  all  proper  personal  efforts  to  bring  to 
Christ,  all  persons  over  whom  opportunity  or  station 
gives  them  an  influence,  or  whom  the  providence  of 
God  may  bring  in  their  way. 

And  if  Scripture  warrants  such  a  course  of  con- 
duct, we  shall  find  no  difficulty  in  proving  it  to  be  a 
reasonable  course.  Indeed,  we  might  take  a  dif- 
ferent position,  and  say  that  every  Christian  is  con- 
strained by  reason  (if  he  hear  its  dictates)  to  follow 
such  a  course.     If  any  of  us  had  received  great  bene- 

23 


178  EVERY    CHRISTIAN    A    MISSIONARY. 

fit  from  some  spring  possessed  of  medical  qualities, 
if  its  waters,  blessed  by  the  healing  angel,  had  washed 
away  disease  and  infirmity  from  us,  should  we  not 
naturally  feel  desirous  that  every  person  in  the  wide 
world,  afflicted  in  the  same  way  with  ourselves, 
should  use  the  means  which  had  been  so  efficacious 
to  us?  No  one  will  doubt  as  to  the  answer  to  this 
question.  The  joy  and  comfort  which  the  boon  of 
health  restores  to  the  heart,  is  so  deep  and  great,  that 
all  who  have  experienced  them  desires  that  others 
should  participate  in  them.  We  could  hardly  find 
the  heart  to  pass  by  a  pale  invalid,  afflicted  in  the 
way  in  which  we  lately  were  afflicted,  without  stop- 
ping to  tell  him,  stranger  though  he  might  be,  of 
the  remedy  which  had  given  relief  to  us.  Now,  if 
such  would  be  the  course,  which  wonld  naturally 
and  reasonably  be  followed  in  bodily  things,  how 
much  more  in  spiritual ;  for  the  effects  of  bodily  dis- 
ease, are,  at  the  most,  only  temporal,  while  the  eff'ects 
of  spiritual  disease  unless  it  be  removed,  are  eternal. 
Viewed  in  this  light,  nothing  seems  more  natural  and 
reasonable,  than  for  one  who  has  been  delivered  from 
the  guilt  and  burden  of  sin  by  Jesus  Christ,  to  seek  to 
bring  every  one  whom  he  can,  yet  suffering  from  the 
same  cause,  to  the  same  great  Physician. 

If  the  treasure  of  the  Christian,  like  other  treasures, 
diminished  in  quantity,  as  the  participators  of  it  in- 
creased in  number,  a  desire  to  share  it  with  others 
might  seem  unreasonable.  But  as  it  is,  the  riches  of 
Christ  are  unsearchable.  There  was  a  drop  of  blood 
shed  from  His  wounds  for  every  transgression  ever 
committed;  there  is   wisdom  in  Him,  sufficient  to 


EVERY    CHRISTIAN    A   MISSIONARY.  179 

correct  every  human  folly  ;  there  is  grace  enough  in 
Him,  to  overcome  every  infirmity  and  every  weak- 
ness of  men:  and  the  Christian,  in  leading  others  to 
the  hidden  treasures,  which  he  has  found,  deprives 
himself  of  nothing.  On  the  contrary,  by  that  very  act 
he  increases  his  own  share;  even  as  Scripture  tells 
us,  "give  and  it  shall  be  given  unto  you."  Have 
we  not  said  enough  to  convince  you  that  it  is  the 
scriptural  and  reasonable  duty  of  every  Christian,  to 
declare  to  the  irreligious,  those  things  which  he  has 
experienced,  that  they  may  have  fellowship  with  him? 
Eyery  Christian,  then,  in  a  certain  sense  being  a 
Missionary,  being  sent  to  seek  and  save  lost  souls, 
the  question  arises,  how  may  he  best  perform  this 
work?  The  answer  to  this  question  is  difficult  and 
delicate;  because  we  would  place  no  restrictions 
which  might  hinder  any  man  from  doing  every  thing 
that  he  lawfully  may  for  the  cause  of  Christ;  and 
because  no  man,  not  properly  sent,  that  is  without 
external  commission  from  Christ  through  the  suc- 
cessors of  the  apostles,  has  a  right  to  execute  any  of 
the  peculiar  functions  of  the  priesthood.  Thus  no 
layman  has  a  right  to  preach  and  teach  publicly.  If 
he  does  it,  he  cannot  expect  the  blessing  of  Christ : 
and  if  Christ  should  bless  his  preaching  to  the  con- 
version, or  sanctification  of  souls ;  he  blesses  the 
truth  delivered,  and  not  the  instrument  by  which  it 
was  delivered.  Yet  a  layman  may  teach  under  the 
authority  of  his  pastor  or  Bishop,  as  a  catechist,  either 
children  or  adults.  In  answering  this  question,  we 
shall  now  only  have  time  to  throw  out  a  few  brief 
hints. 


180  EVERY  CHRISTIAN  A  MISSIONARY. 

In  order  to  success  in  this  work,  a  man  must  be  a 
true  Christian  himself;  and  the  more  eminent  he 
is  in  holiness,  the  more  successful  he  may  hope  to  be 
in  leading  others  to  follow  his  example.  Unless  he 
is  hid  in  God  himself,  unless  as  he  goes  in  and  out 
among  his  fellows,  he  has  in  connection  with  the 
great  truths  of  redemption  an  abiding  and  realizing 
sense  of  death,  judgment  and  the  unspeakable  bliss 
and  woe  of  eternity,  he  cannot  hope  to  speak  to  the 
impenitent  with  that  fervour  and  unction  which  in- 
duces them  to  think  that  you  believe,  and  feel  what 
you  speak,  and  are  striving  yourselves  to  do,  that 
when  you  bid  them  to  do.  A  man  must  have  spi- 
ritually viewed  and  heard  religious  truth,  before  he 
can  effectually  declare  it  to  others,  and  invite  them 
to  partake  with  him  of  its  rich  blessings. 

Now,  there  are  many  truly  pious  persons,  who,  ad- 
mitting the  force  of  all  that  has  been  said,  labour 
earnestly  to  bring  friends,  neighbours  and  relations 
to  Christ,  and  make  it  a  business  upon  all  occasions 
and  in  all  companies  to  introduce  the  subject  of  reli- 
gion, to  speak  to  men  pointedly  upon  the  necessity 
of  their  attending  to  the  salvation  of  their  souls,  to 
exhort,  reprove  and  rebuke.  Such  efforts  in  the  vast 
majority  of  cases  are  unsuccessful,  and  the  person 
who  makes  them  becomes  an  object  of  general  dis- 
like. This  dislike  he  ascribes  to  the  depravity  of 
the  heart,  and  looks  upon  it  as  the  offence  of  the 
Cross,  and  rejoices  to  think  that  he  is  hated  for  his 
Saviour's  sake.  But  the  cause  may  generally  be 
found  in  the  impertinence  of  the  efforts,  however 
well  meant  it  may  have  been.    Undoubtedly  in  order 


EVERY  CHRISTIAN  A  MISSIONARY.  181 

to  do  good  to  the  souls  of  men,  we  must  introduce 
the  subject  of  religion  in  conversation.  But  we 
must  be  upon  the  look  out  for  right  and  proper 
times  and  places.  It  is  not  the  word  spoken,  but 
the  word  Jitlt/  spoken,  that  is  so  good.  Then  again, 
men  will  not  give  heed  to  us  for  our  much  speaking; 
a  single  word  of  the  right  sort  will  often  reach  a 
heart  which  would  have  been  hardened  by  a  long 
exhortation.  As  an  illustration  of  this  I  remember  a 
striking  anecdote  of  the  well  known  and  excellent 
Felix  Neff.  Neff  was  walking  one  day  along  the 
principal  street  of  one  of  the  villages  in  his  cure, 
when  he  discerned  a  person  before  him  whom  he 
took  for  one  of  his  flock.  Walking  up  to  him  at  a 
brisk  rate,  Neff  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  ex- 
claiming, "  well,  friend,  how  is  it  with  your  soul  to- 
day ?"  The  person  proved  to  be  a  total  stranger, 
and  Neff  politely  apologized  and  went  on  his  way. 
Years  after,  he  was  met  by  the  same  person,  who  run- 
ning up  to  him  said,  "  Oh,  sir,  how  much  I  have  to 
thank  you  for  that  one  word.  You  asked  me  of  my 
soul  once,  mistaking  me  for  your  friend  ;  .that  ques- 
tion led  me  to  think  that  I  had  an  immortal  soul,  and 
to  seek  its  salvation."  Now  reasoning  from  what  we 
know  of  man,  is  it  too  much  to  say  if  Neff  had  added 
to  his  question  a  long  exhortation,  as  the  manner 
of  some  is,  that  the  result  would  have  been  very  dif- 
ferent. 

Then,  again,  when  we  speak  to  irreligious  persons 
about  the  necessity  of  holiness,  or  any  like  topic,  we 
should  do  it  without  any  appearance,  and  without  any 
feeling,  of  superiority.      We  should  speak  to  them 


182  EVERY  CHRISTIAN  A  MISSIONARY. 

kindly,  affectionately  and  humbly,  as  to  fellow  suf- 
ferers. My  friend,  I  was  once  afflicted  as  you  are ; 
but  I  have  found  a  most  efficacious  remedy :  will  you 
not  try  it?  I  was  once  as  needy  as  you,  but  a  great 
Friend  to  both  of  us,  hath  given  me  a  treasure.  Will 
you  not  come  and  take  your  share  of  it  ?  This  must 
be  the  spirit  of  all  our  words  and  our  deeds,  spoken 
and  wrought  for  the  salvation  of  men. 

It  is  also  undoubtedly  the  duty  of  a  Christian  who 
thinks,  feels  and  strives  to  act  as  I  have  described, 
boldly  to  rebuke  vice  and  irreligion;  yet  this  also 
must  be  done  with  a  due  regard  to  place  and  person. 
Our  superiors  in  age  and  station  are  to  be  treated 
upon  principle  with  due  respect,  even  if  we  cannot 
approve  of  their  conduct  and  their  conversation. 
Often  a  serious  silence  will  make  a  deeper  and  better 
impression  upon  the  blasphemer  or  the  profane,  than 
a  pointed  rebuke. 

On  the  whole  subject  then  we  would  say  to  a 
Christian  who  seeks  to  win  souls  to  Christ;  first 
strive  by  courtesy^  attention  and  kindness  to  gain  the 
affections  pf  those  whom  you  would  influence  for 
good.  When  you  speak  to  them  about  religion,  speak 
gently  and  humbly,  without  any  affectation  of  su- 
periority, and  be  careful  not  to  weary  or  disgust. 
Put  a  good  book  into  their  hands  at  the  right  time ; 
call  their  attention  to  some  appropriate  passage  of 
holy  writ ;  and  be  patient  and  persevering  in  your 
labours  if  you  would  effect  lasting  good.  Accompany 
each  particular  effort  with  particular  prayer  for  God's 
blessing.  It  is  recorded  of  the  late  Bishop  Jolly,  an 
eminently  pious  prelate  of  the  Church  of  Scotland, 


EVERY  CHRISTIAN  A  MISSIONARY.  183 

that  he  never  sat  down  to  converse  with  any  person, 
without  first  engaging  in  mental  prayer  that  God 
would  bless  and  sanctify  their  conversation,  and  him 
with  whom  he  was  to  hold  intercourse.  The  exam- 
ple is  worthy  of  all  imitation.  Above  all,  if  you 
would  freely  give  of  the  blessings  of  the  gospel,  you 
must  first  freely  receive. 

These  remarks  will  perhaps  appear  cold  and  de- 
fective to  the  religious  enthusiast;  while  the  worldly 
minded  and  irrehsrious  will  deem  them  extravao^ant. 
But  serious,  thoughtful,  and  experienced  Christians, 
have  generally  regarded  calm  and  patient  labours  as 
more  effective  than  the  violent  and  spasmodic  efforts, 
approved  by  certain,  who  seem  to  be  very  zealous 
for  the  cause  of  God.  Let  us  all  of  us,  each  in  our 
own  order,  strive  diligently  to  bring  all  we  can  to 
holiness,  here  and.  so  to  eternal  salvation  hereafter.  If 
we  shall  be  saved  ourselves  and  attain  to  the  full 
fruition  of  the  glorious  God-head,  how  will  it  deepen 
our  joy  throughout  eternity  to  behold  even  one  from 
the  bright  band  of  the  redeemed,  pressing  forward  to 
us  and  exclaiming — Your  patient  and  gentle  warning 
and  exhortation  under  God,  were  the  means  of  lead- 
ing me  here ;  if  it  had  not  been  for  you  the  blackness 
of  darkness  would  have  enshrouded  me  forever  !  My 
brethren,  if  we  have  no  desire  for,  if  we  use  no  efforts 
for  the  salvation  of  perishing  beings  around  us,  if  we 
seek  not  to  bring  them  to  sweet  fellowship  with  the 
Father  and  the  Son  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  it  not  be- 
cause w^e  ourselves  have  no  saving  and  sanctifying 
knowledge  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  ? 


JRW 


SERMON  XV. 

CHRIST  WEEPING  OVER  JERUSALEM. 

[  For  the  fourth  Sunday  in  Lent.] 

And  when  He  was  come  near,  He  beheld  the  city  and  wept  over  it, 

saying,  If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  in  this  thy  day, 

the  things   which   belong  unto  thy  peace  !  but  now  they  are  hid 

from  thine  eyes, — For  tiie  days  shall  come  upon  thee,  that  thine 

enemies  shall  cast   a  trench  about  thee,  and  compass  thee  round, 

and  keep  thee  in  on  every  side,  and  they  shall  lay  thee  even  with 

the  ground,  and  thy  children  within  thee ;  and  they  shall  not  leave 

in  thee  one  stone  upon  another;  because  thou  knowest  not  the 

time  of  thy  visitation. 

St.  Luke,  xix,  41,  42,  43,  and  44. 

These  words  were  uttered  by  our  blessed  Saviour  as 
He  was  approaching  Jerusalem,  in  triumphal  proces- 
sion. Multitudes  shouted  hosannas  in  His  ears,  and 
the  way  before  Him  was  green  with  festive  branches, 
cast  at  his  sacred  feet.  All  was  joy,  gladness,  and 
hope.  As  the  Lord  descended  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
the  Holy  City  "beautiful  for  situation,  the  joy  of 
the  whole  earth,"  appeared  spread  out  before  Him, 
with  its  mighty  towers  and  bulwarks,  its  proud  pa- 
laces and  its  majestic  temple  glittering  in  the  noon- 
day sun ;  and  at  this  sight,  in  the  very  hour  of  His 
triumphal  entrance,  "  Jesus  wept."  The  full  voiced 
welcomes  died  away  over  the  mountains;  silence 
spread  amid  the  moving  multitude,  and  in  astonish- 
ment each  asked  himself,  what  there  was  in   the 


1L 


CHRIST   WEEPING    OVER    JERUSALEM.  185 

beautiful  view  before  Him,  or  in  the  stirring  hum  of 
pleasure  and  business,  that  rose  above  the  city,  which 
could  thus  excite  the  grief  of  Him,  that  claimed  to  be 
that  city's  Lord  and  King?  And  what  was  it,  bre- 
thren, that  thus  brought  tears  from  the  eyes  of  the 
Son  of  Man?  Was  it  because  He  knew  that,  in  a 
few  days,  the  same  lips  that  now  swelled  hosannas, 
would  lift  up  the  horrid  cry.  Crucify  Him!  Crucify 
Him  ?  Was  it  because,  with  a  prophet's  eye,  He  fore- 
saw three  crosses  raised  on  Calvary's  awful  summit, 
and  Himself  writhing  in  blood  on  one  of  them,  cruci- 
fied between  two  thieves?  Ah,  He,  who,  on  His  way 
to  death,  exclaimed  to  the  company  of  women  which 
bewailed  and  lamented  Him,  "  daughters  of  Jerusa- 
lem, weep  not  for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves,  and 
for  your  children,"  had  no  tears  to  shed  at  the  pros- 
pect of  His  own  sufferings  and  death !  But  Jesus 
wept  over  the  city,  which  then  appeared  so  beautiful, 
because  its  day  of  salvation  was  over,  and  its  doom 
sealed ;  because  He  knew,  that  in  a  few  years  those 
broad  streets  would  be  piled  with  the  dead,  those 
proud  buildings  be  wrapped  in  flames,  and  brought 
low  with  the  ground ;  that  busy  hum  be  exchanged 
for  curses  and  execrations,  and  unanswered  prayers 
for  mercy,  and  the  shrieks  of  the  dying;  while  the 
Roman  armies  would  darken  the  country  with  their 
hosts  for  miles  round,  and  their  eagles  wave  over  the 
sacred  walls,  until  the  abomination  of  desolation 
stood  in  the  Holy  of  Holies,  deserted  forever  by  its 
God — and  Jerusalem  was  a  heap  of  blackened  ruins ! 
The  narrative  contained  in  the  text,  may  teach  us, 
my  brethren,  these  things : 

24 


186  CHRIST    WEEPING    OVER    JERUSALEM. 

I.  That  the  Saviour  has  great  pity  and  compas- 
sion for  perishing  sinners. 

II.  That  his  pity  and  compassion  will  not  prevent 
Him  from  executing  threatened  vengeance  upon  those, 
who  obey  not  the  Gospel. 

III.  That  man  has  a  day  of  visitation,  in  which  if  he 
is  not  saved,  the  things  which  belong  unto  his  peace, 
are  -hid  from  his  eyes. — May  God  the  Holy  Ghost 
open  our  eyes  to  understand  these  things,  and  saving- 
ly impress  them  in  our  minds  and  hearts. 

"  When  he  was  come  near,  He  beheld  the  city,  and 
wept  over  it."  The  father,  who  weeps  at  the  neces- 
sary chastisement  of  his  child ;  the  judge,  who  weeps 
when  he  condemns  the  criminal  to  death ;  the  king 
or  the  chief  ruler,  who  weeps  when  he  sets  his  hand 
to  the  fata]  warrant  that  cuts  off  every  hope  from  the 
condemned,  are  all  thought,  and  rightly  thought,  to 
feel  pity  and  sorrow  for  the  suffering,  which  law  and 
justice  compel  them  to  inflict  upon  the  guilty.  How 
strong  then  the  pity  and  compassion  for  lost  sinners, 
written  in  the  tears  of  the  Son  of  Man ;  tears,  which 
preach  a  more  powerful  and  touching  sermon  to  the 
impenitent,  than  any  to  which  mortal  lips  can  give 
utterance.  From  them  we  may  learn,  that  Christ 
has  pity  upon  those,  who  have  no  pity  upon  them- 
selves. There  were  the  inhabitants  of  that  great  city, 
rushing  on  to  the  terrible  doom  which  awaited  them, 
all  mirth  and  gladness :  there  was  the  only  One,  upon 
whom  the  coming  destruction  would  bring  no  injury, 
bathed  in  tears.  And  thus  we  may  believe  it  is  now\ 
Sinners  are  hurrying  on  to  the  day  of  wrath,  which 
ere  long  will  break  upon  them,  in  light-hearted  mer- 


CHRIST   WEEPING    OVER    JERUSALEM.  187 

riment:  and  Jesus,  from  the  right  hand  of  the  ma- 
jesty on  high,  bends  down  in  the  deepest  compassion 
and  sorrow;  for  His  eye  takes  in  the  range  of  eternity. 
He  sees  where  the  eye  of  the  wicked  and  the  worldly 
cannot  reach.  Years  of  sunshine  and  happiness,  and 
luxury  and  pleasure,  meet  the  bad  man's  glance, 
and  he  laughs  for  joy  at  the  prospect :  Christ  beholds, 
far  beyond  the  brief  years  of  mortal  life,  ages,  and 
ages,  and  never  ending  ages  of  darkness,  and  misery, 
and  anguish ;  and  He  weeps.  Would  that  the  im- 
penitent would  think  well  upon  this  portion  of  our 
Saviour's  life,  and  reflect  that  it  is  this  compassion- 
ate, and  afflicted,  this  weeping  Saviour,  whom  they 
are  rejecting  and  setting  at  naught.  Perhaps  the 
thought  of  the  Saviour's  tears  for  their  sorrows,  will 
lead  them  to  weep  for  themselves — to  weep  for  their 
sins,  and  bring  them  to  Him,  who  can  wipe  away  all 
tears,  create  the  fruit  of  the  lips  in  praise  and  thanks- 
giving for  salvation,  and  speak  "peace,  peace"  to 
the  heart  that,  far  from  God,  is  disquieted  at  the  re- 
membrance of  its  guilt. 

"  When  He  was  come  near.  He  beheld  the  city,  and 
wept  over  it."  One  unacquainted  with  the  dignity 
and  divinity  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  beheld 
Him  weeping  over  the  fall  of  Jerusalem,  would  have 
thought  that  His  tears  were  those  of  helpless  sorrow, 
that  He  was  all  unable  to  prevent  the  calamity, 
that  was  soon  to  overwhelm  the  Jewish  people.  But 
He  could  have  prevented  it,  if  He  had  willed  it :  the 
Son  of  God,  very  God  of  very  God,  all  power  was 
His  in  heaven  and  earth ;  and  that  same  voice,  which 
bade  five  loaves  become  food  for  five  thousand,  which 


1S8  CHRIST    WEEPING    OVER    JERUSALEM. 

pierced  the  dull,  cold  ear  of  death;  that  same  voice, 
which  uttered  the  word  that  cleansed  the  leper  from 
his  loathsome  disease,  gave  sight  to  the  blind,  hear- 
ing to  the  deaf,  and  made  the  withered  limb  nervous 
and  strong  in  a  moment;  that  same  voice,  which 
hushed  to  stillness  the  stormy  winds  and  waves  in 
their  wildest  play,  could  have  swept  the  armies  of 
Rome  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Here  then  we  be- 
hold the  Son  of  Man  weeping  over  calamities,  which 
the  Son  of  God  might  have  averted.  My  friends, 
this  incident  was  written  for  our  learning;  and  from 
it  we  may  gain  an  instructive  lesson.  There  are 
some  in  the  world,  who  think  that  God  is  so  compas- 
sionate and  pit  ful,  that  He  wall  never  execute  the 
fearful  threatenings  that  we  find  on  the  pages  of 
our  Bibles;  that  because  God  has  said  He  is  not 
willing  that  any  should  perish,  therefore  no  one  will 
perish.  By  reasoning  in  this  way  it  is,  that  some 
people,  embrace  the  soul-destroying  delusion,  that  all 
men  will  finally  be  saved.  We  ask  every  man,  who 
holds  this  notion,  to  go  with  us  to  the  foot  of  the 
Mount  of  Olives.  In  the  tears  of  the  Lord  Jesus, 
then  shed,  we  see  all  that  he  tells  us  of  God's 
great  mercy  and  unwillingness  that  men  should  be 
lost.  But  when  I  read  of  the  horrors  that  attended 
the  siege  and  destruction  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Ro- 
mans, and  remember,  that  it  was  in  the  power  of 
Christ  to  have  saved  that  city,  over  which  He  wept 
and  lamented ;  I  feel  that  no  pity  and  compassion  in 
God,  is  strong  enough  to  prevent  Him  from  executing 
the  vengeance,  which  He  has  threatened  against  those, 
who  persist  in  disobedience  to  His  laM^s.     Thus  is  it, 


CHRIST    WEEPING    OVER    JERUSALEM.  189 

that  the  incident,  recorded  in  the  text,  preaches  to  us, 
at  the  same  time,  the  mercy  and  wrath  of  God.  God 
is  a  God  of  great  mercy ;  if  He  were  not,  my  brethren, 
where  should  we  all  be  to-day?  He  has  no  pleasure 
in  the  death  of  him  that  dieth.  But  the  flood  and 
storm  of  fire  that  buried  the  cities  of  the  plain,  and 
the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  stern  fulfilments 
of  all  God's  past  threatenings,  must  teach  us,  that  all 
His  threatenings  for  the  future  will  be  rigidly  exe- 
cuted, even  to  the  letter.  The  tears  of  Jesus  !  How 
eloquent  of  His  compassion  for  the  city  of  God,  and 
for  the  creatures  of  God  !  The  tears  of  Jesus !  strano-e 
though  it  be ;  how  sternly  they  tell  us,  that  God's 
mercy  has  a  limit,  beyond  which  it  cannot  pass  ;  and 
that  compassion  and  pity  will  not  always  stay  the  up- 
lifted arm  of  justice.  Sinner,  if  the  tears  of  Jesus  can- 
not melt  thy  heart  to  love,  they  may  arouse  thy  terror. 
"If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  in  this  thy  day 
the  things  which  belong  unto  thy  peace !   but  now 

they  are  hid  from  thine  eyes." "because 

thou  knewest  not  the  time  of  thy  visitation."  These 
words  bring  us  to  the  third  thing,  which  we  may 
learn  from  the  text;  namely,  that  man  has  a  day  of 
visitation,  after  which,  if  he  persists  in  a  course  of 
sin  and  disobedience,  the  things  that  concern  his 
eternal  peace,  are  forever  hidden  from  him.  It  is  a 
common  notion,  that  while  man  lives,  he  may  hope 
for  heaven ;  that  every  day  that  shines  upon  him  is 
a  day  of  salvation.  Under  this  notion  many  put 
aside  good  thoughts  and  counsels  year  after  year, 
until  they  cease  to  come  into  the  heart.  But  a 
careful  examination  of  God's  word,  and  of  His  past 


190  CHRIST    WEEPING    OVER    JERUSALEM. 

dealings  with  nations  and  individuals,  will  lead  us 
to  a  different  opinion.  Life  is  not  always  a  season  of 
probation.  With  some,  even  here,  the  trial  is  over , 
and  their  sentence  of  final  condemnation  has  been 
uttered.  "  They  knew  not  the  time  of  their  visita- 
tion;" they  cannot  see,  they  never  will  see,  "the 
things  which  belong  to  their  peace." 

There  may  be  seen  a  striking  analogy  or  likeness, 
between  God's  dealings  with  whole  nations,  and 
His  dealings  with  private  individuals.  And  this  is 
what  we  should  beforehand  expect ;  for  a  nation,  be- 
ing made  up  of  individuals,  depends  for  its  character 
upon  the  character  of  the  individuals,  of  which  it  is 
composed.  If  the  great  part  of  the  members  of  any 
nation  are  bad,  the  character  of  the  nation  at  large  is 
bad.  If  God  casts  off  a  whole  people,  it  is  because 
the  people,  as  a  whole,  are  rebellious  and  perverse.  If 
He  casts  off  an  individual,  it  is  because,  taken  in  his 
whole  life  and  character,  the  evil  far  outweighs  the 
good.  With  this  view  the  private  Christian  ought 
to  study  the  history  of  the  Jewish  people.  As  they 
were  God's  chosen  and  elect;  so  he  is  chosen  and 
elect.  Now,  the  Jews  had  their  time  of  visitation ; 
the  day,  in  which  they  might  have  known  the  way 
of  peace.  The  Son  of  God  came  among  them  with 
great  power;  and  they  despised  and  rejected  Him: 
and  then  their  heart  was  hardened,  and  their  mind 
was  darkened,  and  they  could  not  believe.  Now, 
we  say  that  all  individuals  in  Christian  lands  have 
their  day  of  visitation,  which  is  made  a  day  of  salva- 
tion by  the  few,  and  of  condemnation,  as  we  fear,  by 
the  many.     Some  have  their  day  of  visitation   in 


CHRIST    WEEPING    OVER   JERUSALEM.  191 

youth.  In  Holy  Baptism,  in  the  teachings  of  pious 
parents,  pastors,  and  friends,  Christ  draws  near  to 
the  young  heart :  but  the  pleasures  of  life  have  filled 
it  up,  and  it  knows  not  the  time  of  its  visitation.  To 
some  more  advanced  in  life,  in  an  alarmino-  sermon,  or 
an  afflictive  dispensation,  such  as  the  loss  of  health, 
or  property,  or  friends,  Christ  makes  His  visit:  but 
repinings  and  murmurings,  the  love  of  the  world,  and 
the  hunting  after  its  riches,  and  honours,  and  plea- 
sures, hide  the  Saviour  from  their  eyes,  so  they  know 
not  that  He  has  been  in  their  midst.  We  all  must 
feel  that  these  things  are  so;  for  we  all  perhaps  have 
seen  and  known  persons  young  and  old,  v/hose  at- 
tention for  a  time  w^as  strongly  directed  to  the  subject 
of  religion;  and  after  a  little  their  interest  in  it  died 
away,  and  seemed  never  again  to  be  revived.  Will 
you  ask  why  these  things  are  so?  Why  is  it  that  a 
man  cannot,  at  any  time,  turn  and  prepare  himself  to 
faith  and  calling  upon  God  ?  We»  answer,  that  inas- 
much as  man  cannot  repent,  or  do  any  thing  good, 
without  the  grace  of  God,  it  seems  natural,  and  ac- 
cording to  what  we  every  day  see  done  in  this  world, 
that  if  he  will  not  improve  that  grace  while  he  has  it, 
after  a  fair  trial,  that  it  should  be  taken  from  him. 
If  any  of  you  had  let  out  a  farm  upon  the  condition, 
that  you  should  receive  a  part  of  the  produce  for  your 
rent,  and  if  year  after  year  your  tenant  neglected  to 
cultivate  the  land,  would  you  not  feel  justified  at  least 
in  taking  it  from  him,  even  if  he  were  turned  out  to 
starve  ?  And  shall  man  be  permitted  to  trifle  wdth  the 
Spirit  of  God? 

What  a  place  our  earth  would  be,  if  men  might 


192  CHRIST    WEEPING    OVER    JERUSALEM. 

always  spend  their  lives  in  sin,  and  then  at  the  last  be 
enabled  to  effectually  repent  upon  their  death-beds? 
If  a  man  has  one  fair  chance  of  salvation,  and  neglects 
it  at  first;  oh !  what  rioht  has  he  to  ask  for  a  second  ? 
My  brethren,  we  hope  and  pray,  that  such  of  you 
as  may  now  be  moved  by  good  thoughts,  or  who 
are  thinking,  either  of  becoming  members  of  the 
Church,  or  of  renewing  your  baptismal  vow^s,  may  be 
brought,  by  the  little  that  has  been  said  on  this  part 
of  our  subject,  to  see  the  great  danger  of  putting 
aside  good  thoughts  and  purposes  to  a  more  conve- 
nient season,  or  of  neglecting  for  a  moment  any  duty, 
which  you  owe  to  your  Saviour  and  God.  You 
have  often  been  told,  when  spoken  to  about  your 
salvation,  that  you  do  not  know  how  near  you 
may  be  standing  to  the  brink  of  the  dark  grave  ? 
It  is  a  solemn  and  startling  thought,  and  yet  there 
is  a  thought  more  fearful  still.  You  do  not  know 
but  this  day,  if  unimproved,  will  close  the  time  of 
your  visitation;  but  that  the  wish,  the  half-formed 
resolution,  to  become  Christ's,  which  now  agitates 
your  bosom,  will  be  the  last  that  God  will  ever 
send  there,  unless  you  strive  earnestly  to-day  to 
bring  it  to  good  effect.  Are  there  not  those  here 
who  have  been  putting  off  the  work  of  repentance 
and  reformation,  and  neglecting  the  means  of  grace, 
baptism,  or  confirmation,  or  the  communion,  for  long 
years?  Surely  some  awaked  hearts  will  feel  that  they 
have  been  guilty  of  madness.  Oh !  is  there  one  here, 
the  time  of  whose  visitation  is  over,  and  from  whose 
eyes  the  things  that  belong  unto  his  peace  are  forever 
hid?     He,  who  wept  over  Jerusalem,  alone  knows. 


SERMON  XVI. 

THE  NECESSITY  OF  HOLINESS. 

Follow  peace  with  all   men,  and   holiness,  without  which  no  man 

shall  see  the  Lord. 

Hebrews,  xii.  14. 

To  desire  to  ascertain  if  we  have  a  title  to  the  pri- 
vileges, blessings,  and  joys  of  heaven,  is  very  natural 
in  dying  men ;  for  if  we  be  persuaded  of  the  truth  of 
the  eternal  things  revealed  to  us  in  the  Scriptures,  it 
would  be  strange,  if  we  did  not  wish  to  know  what 
will  be  our  portion,  in  that  world,  and  in  that  state, 
which  abideth  forever.  And  such  a  desire  is  always 
found  in  the  hearts  of  men,  whose  attention  has  been 
strongly  directed  to  the  necessity  of  preparation  for 
that  which  is  to  come  after  death.  How  may  I  know 
that  my  sins  have  been  forgiven,  and  that  I  am  ac- 
cepted in  "the  Beloved,"  is  a  question,  which  is  fre- 
quently asked  by  the  anxious  penitent,  and  the  thing 
most  sought  for  at  the  present  day,  is  an  assurance 
that  the  punishment  of  sin  has  been  remitted  to  the 
offender.  With  the  answer  to  this  question  we  have 
at  this  time  nothing  to  do,  except  to  remark  in  pass- 
ing, that  the  answer,  generally  or  frequently  given  in 
our  day,  appears  to  us  to  be  highly  unscriptural ; 
since  the  commandments  of  men  set  aside  the  one 
baptism  for  the  remission  of  sins  received,  or  after- 
wards embraced,  in  repentance  and  faith,  and  place  in 

25 


194  THE    NECESSITY    OF    HOLINESS. 

its  stead  an  inward  whisper  of  peace ; — peace,  which 
too  often  has  been  heard  in  hearts,  which  seem  not  to 
have  been  set  to  obey  God's  commandments,  and 
where  self  still  reigns  unsubdued;  making  its  un- 
toward power  manifest,  in  slander  and  evil  speaking, 
in  temper  and  pride,  and  in  disobedience  to  the  wise 
counsels  and  just  rules  of  those,  whom  Christ  has  ap- 
pointed to  feed  His  blood-bought  flock.  We  wish  to 
speak  to-day  of  a  qualification  for  heaven,  without 
which  no  remission  of  sins  will  be  of  any  avail;  of 
the  only  sure  sign,  that  we  are  spiritually  and  indeed 
members  of  Christ  and  children  of  God, — "  holiness, 
without  which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord."  We  be- 
lieve holiness  to  be  the  great  object  to  be  pursued, 
under  the  Christian  dispensation.  The  great  sacrifice 
of  Christ  on  the  Cross,  and  His  perpetual  intercession 
for  us  in  heaven,  have  obtained,  (how  we  know  not,) 
mercy  and  grace,  pardon  and  strength,  for  lost  and 
helpless  sinners,  which  by  nature  we  all  are;  and 
further,  there  is  the  sacrifice  and  intercession,  to  as- 
sure all  who  will  come,  that  no  past  offences  shall 
shut  the  gates  of  God's  mercy  against  them,  or  keep 
from  them  that  help  of  the  Spirit,  without  which  we 
cannot  do  an}"  thing  that  is  good.  But  to  look  to 
the  Cross,  to  believe  that  Christ  died  for  all  men,  that 
he  died  for  us,  is  not  salvation.  Salvation  is  not 
merely  pardon.  It  is  holiness,  an  inward  spiritual 
delivery  from  the  power  of  sin;  a  partaking  of  the 
divine  nature;  a  restoration  to  the  image  of  God,  in 
which  man  was  at  the  first  created.  "  There  is  no 
condemnation,"  says  the  apostle,  "  to  them  which 
are  in  Christ  Jesus ;  who  walk,  not  after  the  flesh, 


THE    NECESSITY   OF    HOLINESS.  195 

but  after  the  Spirit;"  that  is,  those  who  not  only  be- 
lieve in  Christ  as  a  Saviour,  and  trust  to  His  merits 
for  the  pardon  of  sin,  but  who  also  follow  "  holiness, 
without  w^iich  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord." 

Upon  the  first  part  of  the  text  it  is  not  now  neces- 
sary to  remark,  except  perhaps  to  say,  that  directing 
us  at  the  same  time  to  follow  peace  and  holiness,  and 
speaking  only  of  holiness  as  that  without  which  we 
cannot  enter  into  heaven,  the  apostle  seems  to  think, 
that  times  may  come,  when,  in  following  holiness, 
we  shall  not  be  at  peace  with  all  men.  Men,  worldly 
men,  have  carelessness  about  God's  truth,  and  con- 
formity to  the  notions  and  views  of  the  present  world  : 
holy  men  must  contend,  yes,  contend  earnestly,  for  the 
faith  once  for  all  delivered  to  the  Church,  and  must 
not  love,  or  be  conformed  to,  the  world  and  the  things 
of  the  world.  The  latter  clause  of  the  text  teaches 
us  the  necessity  of  holiness,  in  order  to  future  blessed- 
ness. What  is  holiness?  And  why  is  it,  that  "with- 
out holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord?" 

What  is  meant  by  holiness  in  this  place  ?  Certainly 
not  perfect,  unsinning  obedience  to  the  laws  of  God ; 
to  such  a  high  state  of  grace  no  man  has  yet  attained ; 
the  Scripture  itself  tells  us  that  "in  many  things 
we  offend  all."  But  holiness,  according  to  the  mea- 
sure of  frail  man,  is  the  giving  up  our  will  to  God's 
will;  the  setting  our  affections  chiefly  upon  God; 
hating,  and  forsaking,  and  constantly  striving  to 
avoid,  all  sin;  mortifying,  that  is,  putting  to  death 
all  corrupt  and  wrong  desires  and  affections ;  cruci- 
fying "the  flesh,"  "the  old  man,"  "the  whole  body 
of  sin;"  in  short,  striving  as  mightily  to  avoid  every 


196  THE    NECESSITY   OF    HOLINESS. 

thing  sinful,  and  taking  as  much  pains  to  keep  the 
law  of  God,  as  a  covetous  man  takes  to  get  gain  and 
to  avoid  losses.  This  is  "  the  true  Circumcision  of 
the  spirit,"  "the  new  creation  in  Christ  Jesus;" 
this  is  lioliness.  Now  if  any  of  us  feel  that  we  are 
not  in  such  a  state  as  this,  we  may  be  sure  that  there 
is  wanting  in  us  that,  without  which  we  cannot  "  see 
the  Lord."  Examine  yourselves  whether  you  are 
thus  holy.  Christians  are  too  apt  to  rest  contented 
with  low  views  of  religion,  and  with  few  attainments 
in  holiness.  That  frailty  or  sinfulness  of  our  human 
nature,  which  should  always  keep  us  near  Christ, 
is  pleaded  too  often  as  an  apology  for  continuing  in 
sin.  How  often  do  we  hear  the  inconsistent  Christian 
saying,  ''I  know  that  I  do  not  do  right;  I  do  not 
govern  my  tongue  as  I  ought;  I  do  not  keep  under 
my  temper  as  I  ought;  I  do  not  spend  my  time  right- 
ly ;  I  am  too  worldly  I  know :  but  we  are  frail  crea- 
tures ;  God  is  very  merciful ;  Christ  died  for  sinners ; 
salvation  is  all  of  grace;  I  have  no  merits  of  my  own;  I 
trust  entirely  to  the  merits  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 
Persons  who  talk  in  this  way  have  wrong  notions  of 
the  gospel.  There  is  no  promise  of  pardon  and 
mercy  to  those,  who  do  not  strive  to  become  holy. 
We  are  frail  and  weak;  but  the  strength  of  Christ  is 
made  perfect  in  weakness,  and  man  can  do  all  things 
through  Christ,  which  strengtheneth  him ;  he  can 
gain  victories,  of  which  he  hardly  dares  to  think,  over 
self,  sin,  and  the  allurements  of  the  world,  if  he  will 
only  make  the  effort  in  the  right  way.  Oh,  my 
friends,  never  look  to  the  Cross  again,  if  you  only 
look  there  to  get  excuses  for  laziness,  and  sloth,  and 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    HOLINESS.  197 

self-indulgence.  Every  drop  of  blood  which  stains 
it,  preaches  "  holiness  to  the  Lord."  And  if  you  are 
not  holy,  or  are  not  heartily  desirous,  earnestly 
striving,  to  become  so ;  that  very  Cross,  which  you 
glory  in  as  your  hope,  bears  above  you  the  sentence 
of  your  eternal  condemnation. 

But  why  is  it  that  "  without  holiness  no  man  shall 
see  the  Lord?"  That  is,  shall  never  be  admitted  to 
the  presence  and  fruition  of  the  glorious  God-head, 
in  the  heaven  of  heavens.  Even  if  we  could  give  you 
no  reason  for  this  statement  of  Scripture,  it  ought  to 
be  sufficient  for  us,  that  it  is  the  word  of  the  Lord. 
But  there  is  a  reason,  and  a  perfectly  satisfactory  rea- 
son, w^hy  an  unholy  man  shall  not  see  the  Lord, 
namely,  because  he  cannot  enjoy  communion  or  in- 
tercourse with  God.  In  order  to  bring  out  this  rea- 
son more  strongly  and  closely,  we  must  speak  of 
heaven,  and  of  the  nature  and  character  of  its  enjoy- 
ments and  occupations.  Many  are  the  wrong  no- 
tions upon  this  subject,  which  are  entertained  among 
men.  Some  think  of  it  merely  as  a  beautiful  and 
delightful  place,  where  we  shall  have  every  thing 
that  we  wish,  and  where  sorrow  and  want  can  never 
come.  True  it  is,  that  there  the  heart  will  have  all 
that  it  can  want;  it  will  be  perfectly  satisfied.  But 
heaven  should  chiefly  be  viewed  as  a  place  of  holi- 
ness; "there  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  it  any  thing 
that  defileth."  There  God's  will  is  perfectly  done, 
for  all  there  delight  to  do  it;  all  that  they  wish  is  to 
will  as  God  wills.  The  will  of  a  saint  in  light  can 
no  more  be  different  from  God's  will,  than  an  echo 
can  be  diff"erent  from  the  sound  which  it  repeats. 


198  THE    NECESSITY    OF    HOLINESS. 

There,  too,  praise  and  thanksgiving  make  the  chief 
part  of  the  employment  of  the  inhabitants  of  heaven. 
The  hymns  of  praise  to  the  blessed  Trinity,  which 
were  beo-un  when  the  mornino-  stars  and  all  the 
sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy,  and  which  we  now  re- 
peat in  the  Church  on  earth,  will  be  continued  to  all 
eternity.  All  angels  and  saints  in  heaven  perfectly 
love  God,  and  therefore  they  cease  not  singing  prais- 
es and  giving  thanks,  saying,  "blessing,  and  honour, 
and  glory,  and  power,  be  unto  Him  that  sitteth  upon 
the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  forever  and  ever."  Such 
is  heaven ;  and  such  are  its  employments.  No  place 
will  it  be  for  earthly  delights  and  sensual  plea- 
sures; God  will  be  all  in  all.  Now  can  we  suppose 
that  an  unholy  man  would  be  happy  in  such  a  place  ? 
How  is  it  with  worldly  minded  men  when  they  go 
to  Church?  And  the  Church  is  like  heaven  in  one  re- 
spect, namely,  because  God  alone  is  spoken  of  there, 
and  because  prayers  and  praises  are  continually  of- 
fered to  Him.  Are  wicked  or  worldly  men  glad 
when  it  is  said  unto  them,  "let  us  go  into  the  house 
of  the  Lord?"  No:  and  if  custom  or  any  other  mo- 
tive bring  them  there,  they  sit  restless  and  uneasy, 
and  are  all  the  time  wishinor  that  the  service  mio^ht  be 
over.  They  wonder  at  the  high  words  which  burn 
on  the  lips  of  the  faithful ;  they  shrink  from  the  least 
appearance  of  prayer  and  devotion;  and  unless  the 
preacher  be  peculiarly  gifted  and  eloquent,  after  lis- 
tening to  the  first  few  sentences  of  his  sermon,  they 
either  give  themselves  up  to  slumber,  or  to  meditate 
schemes  of  business  or  amusement,  nay,  even  plans 
of  wickedness.    Is  there  not,  my  brethren,  every  rea- 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    HOLINESS.  109 

son  to  believe  that  unholy  men  would  find  heaven  as 
vreary  and  disgusting  a  place  as  the  Church?  Im- 
agine for  a  moment,  (if  such  a  thing  can  possibly  be 
even  imagined,)  a  worldly,  selfish,  polluted  man  placed 
in  God's  presence.  Think  you  that  he  would  enjoy 
communion  with  a  being  of  infinite  purity?  Think 
you  that  he  could  engage  in  the  service  of  Him,  whom 
he  did  not  love?  How  wearisome  to  that  man  would 
be  the  ceaseless  songs  of  praise !  How  awfully  lone- 
ly his  condition,  even  in  the  courts  of  the  Redeemer! 
He  could  not  approach  his  Maker!  and  he  would 
shrink  away  from  the  company  of  the  good  and  vir- 
tuous. It  has  been  well  said,  that  God  could  not  in- 
flict a  greater  punishment  upon  a  sinner  than  to 
summon  him  to  heaven. 

We  think  that  all  will  admit  the  reasonableness  of 
the  saying,  that  "  without  holiness  no  man  shall  see 
the  Lord."  We  think  that  all  will  see,  that  it  would 
be  utterly  impossible  for  an  unholy  man  to  enjoy  him- 
self in  heaven.  Far  more  could  a  rude  untutored  sav- 
age feci  happy  in  the  society  of  the  learned  and  re- 
fined, than  the  unclean  and  the  selfish  find  pleasure 
in  the  communion  of  saints  and  the  presence  of  God. 

My  brethren,  do  you  want  to  know,  whether  you 
have  been  indeed  washed  from  your  sins  in  the  blood 
of  Christ,  and  are  prepared  for  heaven  ?  Are  you 
holy?  Are  you  new  creatures  in  Christ  Jesus?  Do 
you  walk  after  the  Spirit?  These  are  the  best  proofs 
of  readiness  for  death,  and  the  day  of  judgment.  We 
are  not  perfect ;  there  is  no  man  that  liveth,  and  sin- 
neth  not.  But  is  holiness  the  great  bent  of  the  soul? 
Do  we  desire,  struggle,  strive  to  be  holy  ?     If  so,  it  is 


200  THE    NECESSITY    OF    HOLINESS. 

well  with  our  souls :  if  not,  no  inward  expression  of 
joy,  no  assurances  of  pardon,  no  hopes  are  worth  any- 
thing. Rest  not  contented  then  with  any  assurance 
short  of  holiness,  of  an  inward  experience  of  the  pu- 
rifying and  sin-subduing  power  of  faith.  Christ  died 
for  you,  that  you  might  be  holy.  If  you  want  hope 
and  peace,  and  comfort  in  religion — be  holy.  We 
preach  indeed,  remission  of  sins  through  the  blood 
of  Christ,  and  justification  solely  on  account  of 
Christ's  merit :  but  woe  to  us,  when  we  preach  not 
with  these  glorious  truths ;  woe  to  you,  when  you  re- 
ceive not  with  these  glorious  truths ;  that  other  truth, 
proclaimed  by  the  thunders  of  Sinai,  signified  by  the 
sacrifices  of  the  law,  witnessed  by  the  long  line  of 
prophets,  and  written  in  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ, 
"  without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord." 

The  subject,  the  necessity  of  holiness  for  future 
blessedness,  suggests  to  us  a  sad  reflection,  and  a 
necessary  caution.  If  it  indeed  be  true,  that  holiness 
is  necessary  to  salvation;  how  few  there  are,  who  will 
see  God  face  to  face,  and  be  satisfied  in  His  presence 
forever.  There  are,  perhaps,  some  in  these  walls, 
who  bend  the  knee  to  Jesus,  and  take  His  Body  and 
Blood,  who  are  yet  in  their  sins !  Is  it  an  uncharit- 
able suggestion  ?  Let  the  bitterness  and  strife,  and 
envy  and  evil  speaking,  which  may  be  found  among 
us,  answer  this  question.  God  forbid,  that  we  should 
judge  any  man's  heart.  But  holiness  is  a  very  differ- 
ent thinof  from  worldliness:  and  if  a  Christian  mur- 
murs,  and  envies,  and  hates,  and  slanders,  like  an 
open  worldling,  even  charity  will  hardly  dare  to  hope 
that  he  is  ready  to  see  the  Lord.  Christ  Jesus  dwells 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    HOLINESS.  201 

in  you,  Christian  friends,  if  ye  be  not  reprobate ;  and 
surely,  we  can  no  more  think,  that  Christ  inhabits  a 
worldly,  covetous,  envious  heart;  than  we  can  sup- 
pose, that  the  dark,  frozen  caverns  of  northern  climes, 
are  cheered  by  the  beams  of  the  sun.  And  as  we 
move  among  neighbours  and  friends;  and  see  Chris- 
tians engrossed  with  worldly  things,  leading  light  and 
trifling  lives,  speaking  evil  of,  and  envying,  and  dis- 
liking their  brethren;  and  yet,  all  the  while,  dream- 
ing that  they  are  clinging  to  the  Cross  of  Christ;  we 
tremble  for  ourselves  and  for  each  other,  when  we  re- 
member that  it  is  written,  "  without  holiness  no  man 
shall  see  the  Lord." 

But  we  must  be  careful  in  preaching  the  necessity 
of  sanctification,  lest  we  make  the  heart  of  the  right- 
eous sad,  ''whom  God  hath  not  made  sad;"  above 
all,  lest  we  keep  from  Christ  some  of  those  trembling 
contrite  ones,  whom,  of  all  others,  He  would  have  to 
come  to  Him.  "  I  am  not  good  enough,"  is  the  fre- 
quent answer  of  penitents  to  the  ministers  of  Christ, 
who  urge  them  to  come  to  the  means  of  grace.  But 
the  necessity  of  holiness  is  the  strongest  reason,  why 
they  should  come.  We  do  not  use  the  means  of  grace, 
because  we  are  holy ;  but  because  we  desire  to  be.  A 
sincere,  and  hearty  desire  for  holiness,  is  the  only 
moral  qualification  required  in  those,  who  come  for 
the  blessings  of  the  Gospel.  The  fountains  of  refresh- 
ment in  the  Church  of  God,  are  for  the  thirsty ;  the 
bread  of  life,  is  for  the  hungry.  If  you  thirst,  come; 
if  you  hunger,  come;  Christ  rejects  not  the  needy, 
and  the  wretched,  who  seek  His  aid.  It  is  to  those, 
who  hug  their  sins,  and  love  their  shame,  to  whom 

26 


202  THE    NECESSITY    OF    HOLINESS. 

He  says  in  the  language  of  compassionate  reproof, 
"Ye  will  not  come  to  me,  that  ye  might  have  life." 
"Without  holiness,  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord." 
Without  Christ,  man  can  do  nothing  that  is  good. 
Therefore,  let  all,  who  desire  holiness,  and  the  un- 
speakable blessedness,  which  it  brings  to  its  posses- 
sor here  and  hereafter,  come  at  once,  in  all  the 
means  of  grace,  to  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  Jesus 
Christ. 


SERMON  XVII. 

THE  CHILDREN  OF  GOD  MUST  COME  OUT  FROM  THE 

WORLD. 

[After  the  ministering  of  confirmation.] 

Wherefore  come  out  from  among  them,  and  be  ye  separate,  saith  the 
Lord,  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing ;  and  I  will  receive  you, 
and  will  be  a  Father  unto  you,  and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and  daugh- 
ters, saith  the  Lord  Almighty. 

2  Corinthians,  vi,  17,  18. 

The  Apostle  St.  Paul  addressed  these  words  to  the 
first  Christians;  and  the  same  message  was  origi- 
nally sent  to  the  Jewish  people,  in  various  places  of 
the  Old  Testament.  The  subject,  which  they  na- 
turally bring  before  us,  is  one  which  requires  to  be 
treated  with  judgment  and  discretion ;  because  there 
have  been  so  many  dangerous  opinions  about  it,  in 
all  ages  of  the  Church.  We  need  hardly  say  here, 
that  the  text  exhorts  Christians  to  be  separate  from 
the  world.  Upon  the  degree  of  separation  to  be  ob- 
served, there  have  been  extreme  views  among  good 
men;  as  indeed  there  even  now  are.  A  desire  to 
conform  to  the  spirit  of  this,  and  other  like  precepts 
of  the  Bible,  has  in  times  past  sent  many  a  faithful 
Christian  to  the  monastery,  or  to  the  seclusion  of  the 
Eastern  solitudes;  and  has  kept  many  a  saint,  per- 
haps, from  being  useful  to  his  fellows,  through  fear 
of  the  temptations  of  the  world.     And  yet,  while  we 


204  THE    CHILDREN    OF    GOD 

admit  that  this  course  of  life,  and  the  views  whicli 
lead  to  it,  are  in  most  cases  wrong;  as  candid 
readers  of  the  Scriptures,  we  shall  likewise  be  bound 
to  admit,  that  they  warn  us  against  a  conformity  to 
the  notions,  and  opinions,'  and  customs  of  the  world, 
as  something  which  is  utterly  inconsistent  with  the 
character  of  a  Christian.  How  far  then  we  are,  as 
disciples  of  Christ,  bound  to  separate  from  what  is 
called  the  world,  becomes  a  most  important  question 
to  us  all.  Especially  does  it  concern  those,  who,  in 
the  morning  of  life,  have  so  lately  renounced  the 
pomp,  and  vanities  of  the  world,  in  the  Apostolic  rite 
of  confirmation;  and  renewed  that  renunciation,  in 
partaking  of  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ.  For, 
though  now  their  love  to  Christ  seems  deep  and 
earnest,  and  their  interest  in  divine  things  strong;  yet 
the  time  may  come,  when  this  present  world  shall 
asrain  seem  more  attractive,  more  desirable,  than  the 
love  and  favour  of  Almighty  God,  How  important 
then  it  now  is  for  them,  for  us  all,  my  brethren,  tho- 
roughly to  renounce  from  the  heart  all  that  love  of 
the  world,  which  cannot  occupy  the  heart,  with  the 
love  of  the  Father.  May  the  Holy  Spirit  bless  our 
present  meditations,  and  enable  each  one  of  us  to 
give  up  every  thing  contrary  to  our  Christian  pro- 
fession. 

The  text  contains  a  command  and  a  -promise.  We 
shall  consider  them  in  order. 

And  first  the  command,  "  come  out  from  among 
them,  and  be  ye  separate,  and  touch  not  the  unclean 
thino-."  These  words  first  occur  in  the  book  of 
the  Prophet  Isaiah,   being  uttered    by  him   to  the 


MUST  COME  OUT  FROM  THE  WORLD.     205 

captive  Jews  in  Babylon,  How  necessary  they  wera 
for  those  men  and  times,  we  can  all  readily  perceive; 
for  God's  own  people  were  then  a  remnant  in  the 
midst  of  idolaters,  and  under  every  temptation  to 
leave  the  worship  and  service  of  the  true  God,  for 
that  of  the  gods  of  the  heathen.  But  God,  designing 
to  bring  this  elect  nation  back  to  the  Holy  City, 
commanded  the  prophet  to  call  them  out  from  the 
idolaters,  and  to  warn  them  to  abstain  from  every 
thing  that  could  defile  them,  and  render  them  unfit  to 
bear  the  vessels,  and  to  engage  in  the  sacred  things, 
of  the  sanctuary.  In  a  word,  the  object  of  this  com- 
mandment as  first  given,  was  to  make  the  Jew^s  a  pe- 
culiar people  in  a  foreign  land.  St.  Paul,  in  our  text, 
gives  the  words  a  spiritual  application  to  the  Chris- 
tians of  Corinth;  and  the  necessity  of  such  an  ex- 
hortation to  them,  will  be  plain  to  us  all,  when  we 
consider  their  situation.  Surrounded  by  idolaters, 
with,  the  wealth,  tiie  wisdom,  and  the  power  of  the 
world,  arrayed  against  the  cause  of  Christ;  there  was 
every  reason,  that  the  early  Christians  should  be 
called  to  come  out,  and  be  a  separate,  a  peculiar  peo- 
ple. But  now  the  question  comes  up,  whether  this 
commandment  is  applicable  to  us,  to  the  Christians 
of  these  days?  In  many  respects,  our  situation  is 
very  different  from  that  of  the  early  Christians.  We 
live  in  a  land,  where  almost  all  men  nominally  believe 
in  the  religion  of  Jesus ;  and  w^here  every  knee,  that 
is  ever  bent  in  prayer,  is  bent  before  the  Lord  Je- 
hovah ;  and  w^here  outward  morality  is  respected 
and  demanded.  But  when  we  have  said  this,  we 
have,  perhaps,  said,  all  that  can  be  said,  to  mark  the 


fip 


206  THE    CHILDREN    OF    GOD 

difference  between  our  times  and  theirs.  The  spirit 
of  the  world  is  still  opposed  to  the  religion  of  Christ. 
True  it  is,  that  carved  images  no  longer  occupy  the 
temples :  but  still  it  may  be  said  that  idolatry  has 
not  ceased  from  among  men.  For  w^hat  is  idolatry, 
but  the  putting  of  any  thing  between  the  heart  and 
God;  the  giving  of  our  supreme  affections  to  any 
beside  God  ?  And  is  not  this  the  case  with  a  large 
part  of  mankind  in  Christian  lands?  In  how  many 
hearts  of  the  children  of  men,  is  money  enthroned  as 
a  God !  In  how  many  perishing  honors,  in  how 
many  foolish  pleasures !  But  all  such  devotion  of 
the  heart  is  utterly  contrary  to  the  religion  of  Christ, 
which  requires  a  full  surrender  of  the  affections  to 
God.  "All  that  is  in  the  world,"  says  the  Apostle 
St.  John,  "  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes, 
and  the  pride  of  life,  is  not  of  the  Father."  And  do 
we  not  still  see  pride,  sensuality,  and  avarice,  prevail- 
ing among  men,  entering  into  all  their  pursuits, 
making  up  their  pleasures,  forming  the  objects  of 
their  chief  desires  ?  The  perusal  of  a  single  news- 
paper, the  mingling  in  almost  any  collection  of  men, 
a  walk  in  any  city — yea,  village — and  even  among 
the  scattered  houses  of  the  country,  will  convince 
you,  that  these  things  are  so.  Wherever  men  live  for 
self  chiefly,  instead  of  God,  there  we  shall  find  that 
world,  from  which  Christians  must  come  out,  and  be 
separate,  and  the  unclean  things,  of  which  they 
must  not  partake.  We  have  not  attempted  to  argue 
this  point,  because  it  does  not  need  it.  The  true 
Christian  will  tell  you,  that  he  sees  many  things  in 
the  world  opposed  to  the  religion  of  his  Master;  the 


MUST    COME    OUT    FROAI    THE    WORLD.  207 

honest  man  of  the  world  will  tell  yon,  that  if  he  gave 
himself  up  to  Christ,  he  should  feel  bound  to  give  up 
many  things,  in  which  he  now  indulges,  and  which 
are  commonly  indulged  in  by  men:  it  is  only  the 
lukewarm,  the  insincere,  the  inconsistent  professor  of 
religion,  who  will  endeavour  to  convince  you,  that  in 
these  so  called  Christian  lands,  Christians  are  no 
longer  to  be,  what  at  the  first  they  were,  "  a  peculiar 
people." 

"Come  out  from  among  them;"  is  still,  Christian 
friends,  the  Lord's  message  to  you.  But  how,  and 
why  ?  Important  questions  these,  and  not  lightly  to 
be  answered.  Christians  must  come  out  from  the 
world;  but  they  are  not  to  be  morose  and  austere  in 
their  necessary  intercourse  with  worldly  minded  peo- 
ple. Indeed,  in  many  cases,  friendships  and  intima- 
cies have  to  be  preserved  with  them.  But  certainly 
no  true  Christian  will  desire  to  form  any  unnecessary 
intimacy,  or  connection,  with  a  man  of  the  world ;  be- 
cause he  cannot,  if  his  heart  be  true,  have  much  de- 
light in  his  society.  A  Christian  loves  God ;  how 
can  he  then  find  pleasure  in  the  company  of  those 
who  do  not  love  God.  We  think  him  an  unnatural 
son,  who  associates  and  is  intimate  with  men,  who 
slight  and  hate  his  parents.  What  shall  we  think 
then  of  the  child  of  God,  who  looks  for  his  com- 
panions and  intimate  friends  among  those,  who,  not 
being  the  children  of  God,  belong  to  that  other  class 
of  persons,  termed  in  holy  scripture,  "children  of  the 
devil."  We  must  not  then,  in  obedience  to  the  call  of 
our  Christian  profession,  form  any  unnecessary  con- 
nections with  unbelievers.  In  this  particular  we  must 
come  out  from  among  them. 


208  THE    CHILDREN    OF    GOD 

Then  again,  in  their  necessary  intercourse  with 
the  world,  Christians  must  be  a  separate,  a  peculiar 
people.  We  do  not  mean  by  this  statement  to  inti- 
mate, that  religious  people  are  to  adopt  a  sour,  forbid- 
ding deportment,  when  among  worldly  men;  for  such 
a  course  would  injure  religion.  But  as  you  all  know, 
the  Christian  in  the  world  often  hears  vice  commend- 
ed, or  lightly  spoken  of,  as  no  great  matter;  our  re- 
ligion is  scoffed  at  in  his  presence,  or  a  neighbour's 
character  is  picked  to  pieces;  or  subjects  are  intro- 
duced, upon  which  he  cannot  consistently  speak,  and 
in  which  he  cannot  have,  or  ought  not  to  have,  any 
interest.  Now,  upon  such  occasions,  the  Christian 
is  bound  to  appear  "peculiar;"  he  must  show,  that 
what  he  professes  at  Church,  and  in  his  own  house, 
he  professes  every  where,  and  at  all  times.  By  a 
marked  silence,  or  by  a  word  fitly  spoken,  he  is 
bound  to  prove,  before  all  men,  that  he  is  true  to  his 
crucified  Master,  and  to  himself.  If  a  Christian, 
whenever  he  goes  into  the  company  of  irreligious 
people,  joins  with  them  in  their  foolish  jesting  and 
trifling,  and  strives  to  suit  his  conversation  to  their 
tastes  and  views,  he  is  touching  the  unclean  thing, 
which  he  has  solemnly  promised  to  renounce;  he  is 
bending  down  to  that  spirit,  against  which  he  has 
manfully  vowed  to  fight  unto  his  life's  end. 

A  Christian  must  also  be  separate  from  the  world, 
in  his  manner  of  living,  and  employing  his  property. 
Every  one  has  an  undoubted  right  to  live  according 
to  his  income;  but  his  alms  and  benefactions  must 
also  be  according  to  his  income.  Upon  the  poor 
man,  who  has  the  fewest  comforts,  the  needy  have 
fewest  claims.     The  rich  man,  who  has  the  most,  is 


MUST  COME  OUT  FROM  THE  WORLD.     209 

also  the  most  indebted  to  those  in  want.  Now,  peo- 
ple of  the  world  spend  their  property,  chiefly  and 
entirely,  upon  themselves.  The  professed  Christian 
feels  that  he  holds  property  merely  as  God's  trustee, 
for  a  few  days;  and  that  although  he  may  provide 
things  necessary,  and  honest,  and  comfortable,  accord- 
ing to  his  means  and  condition,  for  himself  and  for 
his  family,  yet  he  is  bound  to  do  all  that  he  can  with 
it,  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  his  fellow 
men.  Nevertheless,  professed  Christians,  when  called 
upon  to  do  more  for  the  poor  and  the  destitute,  for 
the  ignorant  and  irreligious,  say  that  they  would 
gladly  do  it,  but  that  fashion  requires  them  to  live  in 
such  a  style,  that  their  means  of  doing  good  are  much 
narrowed.  Now  what  is  fashion,  but  the  opinion  of 
the  world  ?  And  what  has  a  Christian  to  do  with  that? 
His  account  must  be  given  at  last  to  the  Lord  Jesus; 
and  shall  he  now  live,  not  to  please  the  Saviour,  who 
loved  him  and  gave  Himself  for  him,  but  the  selfish, 
sensual,  narrow  minded  people,  who  call  themselves 
the  leaders  of  fashion  ?  In  conformity  to  the  notions 
of  these  people,  we  please  the  prince  of  this  world; 
yea,  range  ourselves  under  his  very  banners.  It  is 
from  these  very  people,  whom  certain  Christians  live 
to  please,  that  we  are  called  out  to  be  separate. 

We  shall  have  time  at  present  only  to  speak  of  one 
more  way,  in  which  professed  Christians  are  bound 
to  be  a  separate  and  peculiar  people.  They  must 
not  engage  in  worldly  amusements;  that  is,  in 
amusements,  which  in  themselves  are  calculated  to 
injure  one's  religious  affections,  and  to  excite  those  pas- 
sions and  desires  of  the  flesh  and  of  the  mind,  which 


210  THE    CHILDREN    OF    GOD 

must  be  nailed  to  the  Cross,  before  we  can  be  truly 
and  certainly  Christ's.  Living,  as  most  of  you  do, 
in  retirement,  you  are  not  now  exposed  to  tempta- 
tions to  join  in  such  amusements ;  but  in  the  changes 
and  chances  of  this  changing  life,  some  of  you  may 
live  in  scenes,  where  you  will  be  surrounded  with 
their  fascinations  and  attractions.  Now  all  will  ad- 
mit that  these  amusements  are  calculated  to  tempt 
the  young  heart  to  delight,  for  a  season ;  but  all,  we 
are  sorry  to  say,  are  not  prepared  to  view  them  as 
forbidden  things  to  the  sworn  followers  of  Christ. 
We  shall  therefore  endeavour,  in  a  very  few  words, 
to  show,  why  Christians  should  come  out  from  among 
them,  and  be  separate  from  them.  A  Christian  pro- 
fesses to  have  given  his  heart  to  God,  to  make  God 
his  supreme  delight;  and  again  he  promises  to  re- 
ceive, as  a  rule  of  life,  a  book  which  commands  him 
to  pray  always.  Now  can  any  one,  whose  supreme 
delight  is  in  God,  find  pleasure  in  scenes,  where 
God's  name  never  is  mentioned,  except  by  profane 
and  ungodly  lips  in  the  way  of  profanity?  Can  one, 
who  prays  always,  lift  up  her  heart  in  secret  prayer 
for  humility,  when  she  is  receiving  with  delight  the 
gross  flattery  of  worldly  friends  ?  Should  a  Chris- 
tian go  into  any  place,  where  he  cannot  pray  in  his 
heart?  May  he  engage  in  any  thing,  upon  which  he 
cannot  secretly  ask  God's  blessing?  Now  tell  me, 
who  would  dare  to  pray  as  he  entered  the  walls  of  a 
Theatre?  Who  would  lift  up  his  heart  in  thankful- 
ness in  the  merriment  of  a  vt^orldly  feast?  Who 
would  seek  in  the  ball  room  for  the  self-denying 
spirit  of  Christ?     Or  what  would  be  the  character  of 


MUST    COME    OUT    FROM    THE    WORLD.  211 

the  private  devotions  of  a  Christian,  often  spending 
two  thirds  of  the  night  amid  such  scenes?  Let  us 
follow  him  to  his  closet.  The  Bible  is  left  unopened. 
The  knee,  indeed,  is  bent.  The  lips  move  in  a  hur- 
ried manner  for  a  very  few  moments.  While  drow- 
siness, and  the  remembrances  of  the  follies,  and  levi- 
ties, and  inconsistencies  of  the  past  evening,  keep  his 
mind  from  the  lifeless  words.  Is  the  picture  over- 
drawn? We  believe  that  no  one  will  say  so,  who 
has  ever,  in  this  way,  attempted  to  mingle  the  service 
of  God  and  this  vain  world.  It  is  trusted,  that  these 
hints  and  questions  will  convince  us  all,  that,  as  pro- 
fessed Christians,  we  must  separate  ourselves  from 
worldly  amusements. 

We  have  thus  endeavoured  to  show  how  Christians 
must  come  out  from  the  world ;  and  do  any  ask  7vhy? 
We  answer  briefly,  for  their  own  sakes;  and  for  the 
sake  of  the  world,  in  which  they  live,  the  dying  world 
which  they  should  strain  every  nerve  to  save.  For 
their  own  sakes,  because  they  cannot  belong  both  to 
Christ  and  the  world ;  and  for  the  world's  sake,  be- 
cause, unless  they  come  out,  and  take  a  decided  stand 
on  the  side  of  God,  as  a  peculiar  and  separate  people, 
worldly  people  will  think  that  religion  is  nothing; 
is  not  worth  seeking  or  having;  and  so  will  plunge 
in  the  vortex  of  pleasure,  and  sink  to  perdition. 

Thus  much  for  the  commandment  of  the  text;  let 
us  now  consider  its  promise.  And  here  we  may  ob- 
serve the  wisdom  and  beauty  of  their  arrangement. 
Side  by  side  with  an  exhortation  to  renounce  the 
world,  we  find  a  promise  of  privileges  and  pleasures, 
so  glorious  and  great,  that  our  minds  cannot  compre- 


21^  THE    CHILDREN    OF    GOD 

hend  them.     It  would  seem  hard  to  command  us  to 
'  leave  the  pleasures  of  this  world,  and  to  offer  us  none 
in  their  place.     But  God  does  not  so  deal  with  His 
people  whom  He  loves.      "  Come  out  from  among 
them,"  He  saith,  "  and  I  will  receive  you,  and  will 
be  a  Father  unto  you,  and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and 
daughters."     We  may  observe,  that  this  'promise  en- 
courages us  to  renounce  the  world  for  God.     We  by  no 
means  deny,  that  the  world  possesses  many  attrac- 
tions for  those  of  us  who  are  yet  young;  and,  as  we 
all  know,  every  human  heart  desires  happiness,  as 
that  which  is  supremely  good.     Now  that  the  happi- 
ness, to  be  so  gained  from  the  world,  is  very  imperfect 
and  unsatisfactory,  they  will  tell  you,  who  have  run 
the  round  of  all  its  painted  follies :  and  to  lead  us  to 
forsake  perishing  pleasures  for  the  fulness  of  ever- 
lasting joy,  God  promises  to  be  our  Father,  if  we 
will  forsake  the  service  of  the  world  for  Him.     And 
do  you  not  think  that  He,  who  made  us,  knows  best 
what  will  make  us  happy  ?     Do  you  believe  that  God 
would  command  us  to  do  any  thing  contrary  to  our 
lasting  happiness  ?     Do  you  not  feel  convinced  that 
He,  who  made  all  things,  who  hung  the  heavens  with 
stars,  and  wrapped  our  earth  in  a  mantle  of  beauty, 
and  fills  all  things  living  with  plenteousness,  is  able 
to  make  you  supremely,  and  perfectly,  and  eternally 
happy?     "  Thou  hast  made  us  for  Thyself,"  said  St. 
Augustine,  ''and  our  heart  is  restless  until  itresteth 
in  Thee."    This  is  the  confession  of  a  man  of  genius, 
and  taste,  and  refinement,  who  sought  for  happiness 
in  siensual  pleasures,  and  in  the  pursuits  of  literature, 
and  the  speculations  of  philosophy ;  and  found  it 


MUST  COME  OUT  FROM  THE  WORLD.  213 

only  in  the  sincere  devotion  of  his  heart  to  Almighty 
God.  The  heart  is  indeed  made  for  God ;  and  none 
but  God  can  fill  it.  It  may  have  the  dearest  friends, 
and  the  highest  honors,  and  the  greatest  riches,  to 
meet  its  longings ;  but  it  w^ill  ache  v^hile  it  is  away 
from  God.  Oh,  be  persuaded  by  these  thoughts  to 
give  up  every  thing  for  God,  to  make  God  the  great 
object  of  your  pursuit,  in  the  uncertainties  of  life ; 
and  then,  in  the  abiding  realities  of  eternity,  He 
will  be  your  everlasting  portion. 

We  observe  also,  that  7ve  cannot  have  the  promise, 
unless  we  fulfil  the  condition  upon  which  it  is  made; 
if  we  would  have  God  for  our  Father,  we  must 
come  out  from  the  world.  And  the  reason  that  so 
many  Christians  a,re  spiritually  dead,  who  once  seemed 
to  live !  and  that  others  have  no  joy  and  peace  in  be- 
lieving is,  that  they  take  hold  of  the  cross  and  look 
back  upon  the  world.  But  how  foolish  it  is  to  call 
ourselves  the  children  of  God,  if  we  will  not  give  up 
the  love  of  the  world,  if  we  will  not  come  out  and  be 
a  peculiar  people.  How  terrible  it  is  to  call  God  our 
Father,  with  devices  and  affections  in  our  hearts, 
which  will  draw  down  the  withering  answer,  "  I 
know  you  not,  depart  from  me."  And  now,  my 
friends,  ask  yourselves  this  question,  naturally  sug- 
gested by  our  subject,  Am  I  willing  to  give  up  the 
world  for  God  ?  If  ijou  are  not ;  for  the  sake  of  reli- 
gion; for  the  sake  of  souls  who  may  perish  through 
your  inconsistency ;  we  beseech  you  to  leave  the 
ranks  of  Christian  men ;  and  to  act  as  you  think  and 
feel.  If  you  are  not  willing  to  give  up  the  world  for 
God — but  the  thought  is  too  dreadful  to  be  pursued. 


214  THE    CHILDREN    OF    GOD 

All  the  generations  of  men  have  wondered,  that 
'*  Esau  sold  his  birthright  for  a  morsel  of  meat;"  but 
that  any  intelligent  being  should  sell  the  everlasting 
favor  of  Almighty  God,  and  the  joys  that  He  can 
bestow,  for  all  the  delights  that  this  earth  can  give, 
may  well  fill  the  hearts  of  the  redeemed  with  endless 
amazement.  But  if  you  are  willing  to  come  out 
from  the  world,  and  to  be  separate,  and  to  touch  not 
the  unclean  thing,  then  God  will  receive  you  for  his 
child,  and  will  be  your  Father  forever.  Mortal  words 
cannot  describe — mortal  hearts  cannot  conceive,  your 
blessedness. 


SERMON  XVin. 

THE  SINNER  ALIVE  WITHOUT  THE  LAW. 

For  I  was  alive  without  the  Law  once. 

Romans,  vii.  9,  first  clause. 

In  the  chapter  from  which  our  text  is  taken,  the 
Apostle  St.  Paul  shows  the  inefficacy  of  the  Law  of 
Moses,  or  the  Law  of  Nature,  for  the  sanctification  of 
man ;  and  in  the  course  of  his  argument,  he  describes 
the  state,  feelings,  and  struggles  of  a  man,  who  first 
being  ignorant  of  the  law,  afterwards  comes  to  the 
knowledge  of  its  obligations,  the  extent  of  its  claims, 
and  its  demands ;  and  then,  with  a  sincere  desire  to 
do  God's  will,  and  with  a  delight  in,  and  approval  of. 
His  law,  finds  to  his  sorrow,  and  shame,  and  disap- 
pointment, that  he  cannot,  in  and  of  himself,  keep  the 
law;  and  lastly  discovers  in  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ,  the  way  of  a  full,  free  pardon  or  justification ; 
and  that  even  greater  blessing,  the  way  of  holiness; 
the  ability  to  keep  the  law  of  God.  The  condition  of 
a  man  ignorant  of  the  law,  will  have  our  attention  this 
morning. 

''  For  I  was  alive  without  the  law  once."  These 
words  suggest  two  inquiries.  What  is  it,  to  be  "with- 
out the  Law?"  and  then,  what  is  meant  by  being 
"alive  without  the  Law?" 

To  be  without  the  law,  does  not  mean  to  be  without 
some  rule  of  life ;  for  v/ithout  some  such  rule,  or 


216  THE  SINNER  ALIVE  WITHOUT  THE  LAW. 

some  glimmering  notions  of  some  such  rule,  no  na- 
tion in  the  world  ever  was.  Long  before  the  Mosaic 
Law  was  given  upon  Sinai,  the  nations  of  the  earth 
knew  the  duties,  that  they  owed  to  the  Lord  their 
God,  and  to  each  other.  If  this  had  not  been  the  case, 
surely  the  all  just  God  never  would  have  punished 
any  man  for  sin ;  the  waters  of  the  flood  never  would 
have  covered  the  earth ;  and  Sodom  and  Gomorrah 
would  have  slowly  decayed  in  the  lapse  of  ages.  But 
St.  Paul  puts  the  question  at  rest,  when  he  tells  us, 
that  *'  the  Gentiles,  when  they  do  by  nature  the 
things  contained  in  the  law,  are  a  law  unto  them- 
selves ;"  plainly  intimating,  that,  by  the  light  of  na-  . 
ture,  they  may  know  the  moral  duties  contained  in  ' 
the  law  of  Moses.  Can  v/e  suppose,  that  God  would 
leave  intelligent,  moral,  accountable  beings  without 
some  guide  to  moral  duties;  some  warning  voice, 
within  or  without,  to  keep  them  from  the  miseries, 
the  bitter  consequences,  and  dreadful  penalties,  tem- 
poral and  eternal,  of  sin?  If  most  of  the  nations  of 
the  earth  have  been  left  without  a  rule  of  right,  how 
then  shall  they  be  judged?  Surely,  God  never  will 
condemn,  in  justice  could  not  condemn,  those  who 
had  no  means  of  ever  knowing  their  duty.  We  by 
no  means  contend,  that  the  law,  as  existing  among 
heathen  nations,  is  in  itself  sufficient  to  make  them 
holy,  and  to  restrain  them  from  corruption;  by  it 
they  never  can  be  justified,  for  they  cannot  perfectly 
keep  it ;  through  it  they  can  never  be  sanctified,  for 
it  offers  none  of  those  helps  and  aids  offered  and  given 
freely  to  the  members  of  Christ.  It  is  but  a  single 
star   breakincr  through   the  blackness  of  darkness, 


THE  SINNER  ALIVE  WITHOUT  THE  LAW.  217 

giving  first  light  enough  to  the  wretched  Pagan,  to 
show  him  that  there  is  a  heaven,  and  now  and  then 
flashing  a  few  uncertain  rajs  upon  a  path,  which 
seems  to  lead  to  it.  Alas  !  it  only  gives  light  enough 
to  leave  the  poor  wretch,  who  marks  it,  without  excuse 
before  God.  We  should  not  have  entered  at  all  upon 
this  subject,  had  it  not  been  necessary  to  glance  at  it, 
in  order  to  show,  that  to  be  "without  the  law,"  in 
what  we  believe  to  be  the  Apostle's  sense,  is  the 
state  of  some,  who  Sunday  after  Sunday  hear  it  pro- 
claimed from  the  altar,  and  who  can  daily  read  it  in 
their  Bibles.  We  believe  that,  in  the  sense  of  having 
no  law,  no  rule  for  a  guide  of  life,  man  never  was 
'*  without  the  lawP  As  each  order  of  things  in  the 
universe  has  its  law  which  it  obeys ;  as  our  bodies 
have  laws  which  they  obey  :  so  we  believe  that  the 
soul,  the  moral  and  spiritual  part  of  man,  has  its  law, 
which,  by  its  existence,  it  is  bound  to  obey  forever. 
There  is  no  material  thing  in  the  wide  world  without 
its  law :  and  was  man,  immortal  man,  more  capable 
of  knowing,  loving,  and  obeying  his  great  and  holy 
Creator,  ever  left  without  a  guide  to  the  mode  of 
pleasing  and  serving  his  Creator  ?  Either  we  have 
altoorether  mistaken  our  nature;  or  reason  and  revela- 
tion  alike  declare  against  such  a  notion. 

But  to  be  ''without  the  law,"  means  to  be  ignorant 
of  the  obligation  and  penalty,  but  chiefly  of  the  ex- 
tent of  the  law's  claims  and  demands  upon  men. 
And  by  the  law  here,  it  is  necessary  to  remark,  that 
we  mean,  not  merely  the  letter  of  the  moral  law  of 
Moses,  but  the  whole  rule  of  our  duty  to  God  and  our 
neighbour,  as  contained  in  all  the  inspired  writings. 


218     THE  SINNER  ALIVE  WITHOUT  THE  LAW. 

Some  men  then  are  "  without  the  law,"  because 
they  are  ignorant  of  its  obligations;  and  by  ignorance 
we  do  not  so  much  mean  a  mere  want  of  knowledge 
of  the  existence  of  the  letter  of  the  law,  as  the  want 
of  a  practical,  realizing,  abiding  sense  of  its  obliga- 
tory character.  Such  an  ignorance,  certainly,  is  not 
found  among  the  great  part  of  the  people  in  Chris- 
tian lands;  yet  there  are  those,  who  seem  to  have  no 
idea  of  their  responsibility  to  God,  who  seem  to 
think  that  they  were  called  into  being,  not  to  live  to 
the  glory  of  God,  but  simply  to  please  themselves, 
and  to  enjoy  life  in  the  best  manner  they  can.  Now, 
if  the  word  of  God  be  true ;  if  it  be  true  that  all  things 
were  made  for  God's  glory ;  if  it  be  true  that  man  is 
bound,  with  his  soul  and  body,  with  his  time  and 
talents,  gifts  and  acquirements,  to  glorify  God;  then 
may  these  self-pleasers,  and  self-seekers,  be  said  to  be 
''  without  the  law;"  since  they  have  no  proper  notion 
of  the  law  of  their  being ;  of  that  great  rule,  which 
assigns  them  their  place  and  their  duties  in  the  crea- 
tion. And  here  we  may  well  pause,  and  ask  you, 
whether,  in  this  sense,  any  of  you  are  "  without  the 
law?"  Have  any  of  you  the  notion  that,  provided 
you  do  not  oifend  against  the  laws  of  the  land,  you 
may  live  as  you  please  ?  Are  any  of  you  without 
the  abiding  persuasion,  that  you  were  placed  in  this 
world,  and  have  health,  and  strength,  and  time,  and 
talents  given  you  to  serve  your  Maker;  that  you 
are  accountable  to  Him  for  all  your  actions,  for  the 
employment  of  every  moment  of  your  time,  and 
every  portion  of  your  property?  Then  indeed  are 
you  without  the  law;    you  are  here,  dying  man. 


THE  SINNER  ALIVE  WITHOUT  THE  LAW.  ,        219 

hurrying  into  unlmown  scenes;  sent  on  earth  ap- 
parently without  an  aim  or  an  object;  Uving  and 
dying  like  the  beasts  that  perish.  What  a  senseless 
and  foolish  notion  of  his  own  being  must  that  man 
have,  who  lives  "without  the  law." 

Again,  to  be  without  the  law  means  chiefly,  to  be 
without  a  proper  notion  of  the  extent  of  the  claims 
and  demands  of  the  law ;  of  what  is  commonly  called, 
the  spirituality  of  the  law.  And  in  this  sense,  all 
persons,  who  have  not  been  renewed  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  or  who  have  not  been  convicted  of  sin  by  tho 
same  Spirit,  are  without  the  law.  This  class  in- 
cl  udes  a  large  part  of  the  population  of  every  land  in 
Christendom ;  perhaps  some  such  may  be  found  in 
the  ranks  of  professors  of  religion;  yes,  and  even 
among  the  ministers  of  God.  These  persons  have  a 
general  notion  of  owing  certain  duties  to  God;  such 
as  prayer,  observance  of  the  Lord's  day,  an  outward 
obedience  to  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  such  like. 
But  the  Law  requires  much  more  than  this ;  it  re- 
quires supreme  love  to  God;  the  entire  devotion  of 
self  to  Him;  truth  in  the  inward  parts;  inward 
purity  and  rectitude;  and  the  government  of  the 
thoughts  and  passions.  It  requires  right  motives, 
as  well  as  right  acts ;  clean  hearts,  as  well  as  un- 
stained hands.  It  requires  us,  whatever  we  do, 
''whether  we  eat  or  drink,"  to  "do  all  to  the  glory  of 
God."  It  is  in  vain  to  shrink  from,  or  to  shut  our 
eyes  against,  these  views;  they  are  clearly  and  con- 
stantly brought  out  in  the  teachings  of  our  blessed 
Saviour.  Indeed  we  believe  that  every  intelligent 
reader  of  the  Scriptures,  whatever  may  be  his  prac- 


2-20  THE  SINNER  ALIVE  WITHOUT  THE  LAW. 

tice,  will  tell  you  that  they  are  Scriptural  And  if 
such  be  the  demands  of  the  Law  upon  man,  will  any 
of  you  deny  that  a  large  part  of  mankind,  of  those 
who  dwell  under  the  shadow  of  the  Cross,  are  ''with- 
out the  law;"  that  is,  have  never  had  the  law,  in  the 
spirituality  of  its  demands,  brought  home  to  their 
consciences  ?  Does  that  professor  of  religion  know 
the  spirituality  of  the  law,  who  spends  his  time  in 
pleasure,  employs  his  income  wholly  in  selfish  pur- 
poses, or  does  good  to  be  seen  of  men,  and  indulges 
his  evil  temper;  and  yet  all  the  while  thinks  himself 
a  good  Christian,  because  he  comes  to  the  Commu- 
nion, and  does  not  outwardly  violate  the  moral  code. 
Is  not  that  man  "without  the  law,"  who  feels  safe, 
and  at  ease  and  peace,  and  hopes  to  go  to  heaven, 
because  he  never  committed  murder,  or  theft,  or 
adultery;  and  yet  who  has  no  love  to  God  in  his  soul, 
no  love  to  his  fellow  men?  Thus  we  have  ascer- 
tained, that  the  expression,  "without  the  law,"  means 
to  have  no  clear  knowledge  of  what  the  law  requires 
of  us,  of  the  whole  duty  of  man  to  his  Creator. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  take  up  the  other  phrase, 
"I  was  alive." — "I  was  alive  without  the  law  once." 
This  is,  at  first  sight,  a  hard  saying ;  but  a  little  con- 
sideration will  soon  do  away  the  difficulty.  Some 
writers  understand  the  Apostle  simply  to  say,  I  was 
once  living  without,  that  is,  ignorant  of  the  law. 
But  the  last  part  of  the  verse  forbids  us  to  give  a 
literal  interpretation  to  the  first:  "but  when  the 
commandment  came,  sin  revived,  and  I  died."  You 
will  all  now  see  plainly,  that  the  expression,  "I  was 
alive,"  cannot  have  a  literal  meaning;  for  if  you  in- 


•THE  SINNER  ALIVE   WITHOUT  THE  LAW.  221 

terpret  it  literally,  then  you  mnst  also  give  a  literal 
interpretation  to  the  words,  "v/hen  the  command- 
ment came — I  died."  Thus  making  it  appear,  that 
the  man,  Avhom  the  Apostle  describes,  actually  died, 
as  soon  as  he  was  made  acquainted  with  the  law  and 
its  claims.  This  interpretation  cannot  stand  for  a 
moment.  The  words,  "  I  was  alive,"  are  then  un- 
doubtedly figurative;  and  the  best  interpretation  of 
them,  that  I  have  met  with,  is  this — I  was  living  in 
a  state  of  self-complacency,  from  ignorance  of  my  real 
state  and  character.  Life  and  death  are  thus  often 
used  in  Scripture  to  describe  states  of  happiness  or 
misery.  Thus  "to  be  carnally  minded,"  is  said  to  be 
"death;"  and  "to  be  spiritually  minded,"  "life;"  and 
the  punishment  of  the  wicked  is  called  "  the  second 
death;"  or  sometimes  simply  "death."  We  think 
that  this  explanation  makes  the  whole  passage  per- 
fectly plain. 

A  man  without  the  law  is  "alive,"  that  is  to  say, 
pleased  with  himself;  is  careless  and  at  ease,  because 
he  is  ignorant  of  the  sinfulness  of  his  own  heart  and 
life.  The  law  of  God  is  the  mirror  in  which  man 
beholds  his  moral  nature.  Without  the  law,  ignorant 
of  its  claims ;  if  the  world  goes  well  with  us ;  if  health, 
and  strength,  and  plenty  fall  to  our  lot;  if  a  sense  of 
decency,  or  the  fear  of  human  laws,  or  the  absence  of 
strong  temptations,  keep  us  from  open  and  gross  vio- 
lations of  the  law;  we  are  apt  to  think  that  we  are 
very  good  sort  of  persons.  We  have  no  notion  that 
pride  is  sinful ;  that  waste  of  time  is  sinful ;  that  anger 
is  sinful;  that  selfishness,  evil  speaking  and  worldly- 
mindedness  are  sinful.  We  never  think  that  we  are 
murderers,  because  we  hate  our  brother;  or  adulterers, 


222        THE    SINNER    ALIVE    WITHOUT   THE    LAW. 

because  our  hearts  go  astray.  We  know  not  that  we 
are  guilty  before  God,  because  we  do  not  love  Him  su-  i 
premely ;  or  do  not  visit,  and  comfort,  and  relieve  the 
needy,  and  distressed,  and  afflicted.  We  are  pleased 
with  ourselves,  because  we  do  not  know  ourselves. 
We  think  that  the  heart  is  pure,  because  we  have 
searched  it  in  the  dark.  We  have  never  taken  the 
lamp  of  God's  word,  and  descended  into  its  depths,  and 
beheld  the  unclean  things  that  make  it  filthy  and 
abominable.  This  is  the  reason  that  so  many  sinners 
are  at  ease;  that  some  death-couches  even  are  not 
strewed  with  the  thorns  of  remorse.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  those,  who  have  sinned  against  warnings  and 
convictions  for  a  long  time,  the  greater  portion  of  irre- 
ligious people  are  "alive  without  the  law;"  they  are 
self-satisfied  and  self-approved,  because  they  are  fear- 
fully ignorant  of  what  God  requires  at  our  hands. 

The  man  "without  the  law"  is  also  "alive,"  that 
is,  at  ease,  and  without  fear;  because  he  sees  not  that 
he  is  exposed  to  the  penalty  of  the  law.  Of  course, 
ignorant  of  the  true  nature  of  the  law,  he  is  also  ig- 
norant that  he  has  broken  it,  and  so  has  come  under 
the  curse  denounced  against  those,  who  omit  to  fulfil 
its  every  jot  and  tittle.  And  so  he  walks  along  the 
journey  of  life,  happy,  and  contented,  and  peaceful ; 
enjoying  the  good  things  that  surround  him,  under  a 
sentence  of  everlasting  condemnation.  These  illus- 
trations will  suffice  to  show  us,  what  is  meant  by  the 
expression  "I  was  alive."  In  fine,  every  one,  w^ho  is 
in  the  peace  of  ignorance,  who  is  going  about  "  to  es- 
tablish his  own  righteousness,"  who  expects  justifi- 
cation in  virtue  of  his  own  merits,  who  thinks  that 
he  can  be  holy  in  his  own  strength,  is  "alive  without 


THE    SINNER    ALIVE    WITHOUT   THE    LAW.         223 

the  law."  He,  who  truly  knows  the  law,  knows  that 
it  can  condemn,  but  cannot  acquit;  knows  that  it  can 
point  out  sin,  but  cannot  deliver  from  its  bondage ; 
can  show  what  is  right,  but  gives  no  power  to  do  it. 
And  were  it  not  for  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  our 
riofhteousness  and  strength ;  once  knowing  the  law, 
we  should  die  forever. 

My  friends,  there  are  some  of  us,  who,  looking 
back  at  our  past  lives,  can  say  with  the  Apostle,  "I 
was  alive  without  the  law  once."  We  remember 
the  sunny  days  of  our  youtii,  when  we  were  free 
from  a  sense  of  sin,  when  we  looked  coldly  on  the 
Cross  of  Christ,  and  thought  perhaps  that,  if  we  were 
called  upon  to  die,  our  souls  would  flee  away  like 
unchained  birds,  and  escape  to  the  raptures  and  joys 
of  paradise.  But  the  commandment  came  and  showed 
us  our  sins.  And  now,  as  we  turn  a  longing  eye  upon 
the  joys  of  our  youth,  we  see  sin — sin  written  in  dark 
characters  upon  them  all.  We  see  sin  in  our  pee- 
vishness under  restraint;  in  unkind  words  to  brothers, 
sisters  and  playmates ;  in  our  wasted  school  hours,  and 
our  disobedience  to  teachers.  Yes,  and  on  how  many 
scenes  of  mirth  and  merriment,  which  we  once  ex- 
pected to  cherish  forever,  as  green  spots  in  life's  de- 
sert, do  we  see  the  same  dreadful  inscription,  sin, 
sin!  We  read  now  in  many  pages  of  our  past  his- 
tory, gratified  vanity,  instead  of  good  nature  ;  and  sel- 
fishness, in  the  place  of  generosity  ;  'pride,  instead  of  a 
desire  to  do  our  duty.  Till  the  period  of  our  conver- 
sion to  God,  every  hour  of  our  by-gone  days,  is  dark- 
ened with  sin.  But  oh!  how  much  better  is  it  to 
feel  the  bitterness  of  conviction,  and  the  anguish  of 


224        THE    SINNER    ALIVE    WLTHOUT   THE    LAW. 

repentance,  than  to  be  "alive  without  the  law;"  to 
go  about  pleased  with  ourselves,  when  the  wrath  of 
the  Holy  one  is  kindled  against  us;  to  think  that  we 
are  prepared  for  heaven,  when  we  are  hurrying  down 
to  perdition. 

And  are  there  not  some  of  my  hearers  wlio  are 
now  alive  without  the  laiv?  Do  we  not  speak  to  some 
who  have  never  had  any  sense  of  sin,  and  who  know 
nothing  of  the  claims  and  demands  of  the  just  laws 
of  their  Maker?  Oh!  it  must  be  so,  or  there  would 
not  be  so  many  at  ease  in  a  state  of  rebellion;  at 
peace,  in  serving  self  supremely,  and  forgetting  God. 
You  are  alive  now  my  friends;  you  are  gay  and  hap- 
py; you  have  no  fear ;  you  feel  perfectly  secure.  But 
yours  is  the  security  of  a  man  sleeping  on  the  edge 
of  a  precipice;  yours  is  the  gaityof  the  maniac,  that 
for  a  while  has  forgotten  his  misery.  We  beseech 
you  to  seek  to  know  God's  law,  in  all  its  length,  and 
breadth,  and  depth ;  and  when  you  have  acquired  that 
knowledge,  you  will  see  the  sinfulness  of  your  past 
lives;  when  you  have  endeavoured,  in  your  own 
strength,  to  keep  the  law,  you  will  be  convinced  of 
the  corruption  of  your  heart;  yon  will  find,  that  when 
you  had  "a  name  to  live,"  3^ou  were  dead.  How 
comfortless  we  should  leave  you,  were  we  not  en- 
trusted with  the  preaching  of  this  simple  and  won- 
derful truth :  "  Christ  Jesus  is  made  unto  us  wis- 
dom, and  righteousness,  and  sanctification,  and  re- 
demption." His  blood  can  cleanse  you  from  all  sin; 
His  Spirit  can  renew  your  corrupt  heart.  Make 
yourselves  acquainted  with  the  claims  of  the  law, 
and  the  law  will  bring  you  to  Christ;  and  Christ  rvill 
save  every  one  that  believeth  in  Him. 


SERMON  XIX. 

LEAVING  THE  FIRST  LOVE. 

Nevertheless  I  have  somewhat  against  thee,  because  thou   hast  left 

thy  first  love.     Remember  therefore  from  whence  thou  art  fallen ; 

and  repent  and  do  the  first  works ;  or  else  I  will  come  unto  thee 

quickly,  and  will  remove  thy  candlestick  out  of  his  place,  except 

thou  repent. 

Revelations  ii.  4,  5. 

The  Saviour  is  described  in  the  first  verse  of  this 
chapter,  as  walking  in  the  midst  of  the  seven  candle- 
sticks; which  means,  that  He  went  up  and  down 
among  the  seven  Churches  of  Asia,  overseeing  their 
Bishops,  Clergy  and  members,  and  ministering  to  the 
spiritual  wants  and  necessities  of  the  several  flocks. 
And  if  the  Lord  performed  this  office  for  these 
Churches,  w^e  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  He 
walks  in  the  midst  of  all  the  other  branches  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  wherever  planted.  We  have 
every  reason  to  believe  that  He  is  in  our  midst, 
searching  all  our  hearts,  trying  our  motives,  and 
watching  our  progress  in  religion.  And  what  mes- 
sage think  you,  my  brethren,  that  He  would  address 
to  us,  should  He  send  an  inspired  messenger  within 
our  lands?  On  whom  would  He  repose,  if  He 
should  suddenly  appear  before  us,  when  we  were 
kneeling  around  this  altar?  Ah,  who  of  us  would 
go  away  unreproved?     Well  would  it  be  for  us  all, 

29 


226  LEAVING    THE    FIRST    LOVE. 

many  inconsistencies  wonld  it  prevent,  many  heart- 
burnings would  it  allay,  many  quarrels  would  it  heal, 
could  we  ever  keep  in  mind,  that  our  Lord  is  pre- 
sent with  His  Church,  noting  narrowly  the  conduct 
of  every  member.  And  against  how  many  of  us  has 
He  "some  what"!  How  much  does  he  see  to  offend 
Him  in  those,  who  profess  to  love  Him  with  all  their 
heart.  He  charges  one  with  worldly  mindedness, 
and  with  the  want  of  brotherly  love ;  another  with 
evil  speaking  and  slander.  He  says  to  one,  "  thou 
professest  to  love  me  and  to  value  my  gospel,  and  yet 
thou  dost  nothing  to  send  it  to  those  who  have  it 
not;"  and  to  another,  "thou  mockest  me  with  thy 
love,  for  thou  lovest  not  thy  brother,  thou  forgivest 
not  him  who  offendeth  against  thee."  My  brethren, 
let  us  judge  ourselves:  to  whom  of  us  would  he 
say  in  the  words  first  addressed  to  the  Church  of 
Ephesus:  "I  have  some  what  against  thee  because 
thou  hast  left  thy  first  love?" 

But  this  reminds  us  of  our  text,  which  brings  to 
our  notice,  our  Lord's  complaint  against  the  Ephe- 
sian  Church ;  the  means  of  destruction  suggested ; 
and  the  punishment  threatened.  May  the  Lord 
bring  this  message  home  to  the  hearts  of  all,  whose 
spiritual  state  is  decaying. 

Our  Saviour  having  commended  the  Ephesian 
Church  for  patience,  for  zeal  against  false  prophets 
and  heretics,  adds  to  His  commendation  this  rea- 
sonable complaint,  "  nevertheless,  I  have  somewhat 
against  thee,  because  thou  hast  left  thy  first  love." 
The  reflections  that  these  words  awaken  are  sad  in 
the  extreme.     The  Church,  in  which  St.  Paul  once 


LEAVING  THE  FIRST  LOVE.  227 

resided,  and  to  which  he  addressed  an  epistle  in 
which  no  censure  occurs ;  the  Church,  over  which 
Timothy  exercised  the  office  of  a  Bishop;  soon  after 
this  great  Apostle  had  gone  to  his  crown,  and  while 
his  instructions  were  fresh  in  its  remembrance,  had 
left  its  "first  love."  Even  while  the  beloved  dis- 
ciple dwelt  in  its  midst,  preached  in  its  pulpits,  and 
ministered  at  its  altars ;  even  while  with  tremblinof 
lips  he  exhorted  members  to  "love  one  another;"  it 
had  declined  in  spirituality  and  piety.  How  frail 
and  unstable  is  man  !  how  little  does  he  improve  un- 
der the  greatest  opportunities !  how  soon  his  glory 
decays !  "  It  is  the  man  of  God  who  is  disobedient 
to  the  word  of  the  Lord."  He,  whom  God  exalted 
from  the  sheep-fold  to  the  throne  of  Israel,  becomes 
an  adulterer  and  a  murderer.  Solomon,  in  all  the 
glory  of  heaven-sent  wisdom,  bows  down  to  idols,  and 
becomes  the  slave  of  lust.  Churches  planted  by 
Apostles  themselves,  in  a  few  years  after  they  had 
known  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  leave  their  first 
love,  and  become  withered  branches  in  the  living 
vine;  they  cease  to  bear  fruit,  and  the  Father  taketh 
them  away. 

The  Church  of  Ephesus,  at  the  time  our  Lord  ad- 
dressed to  it  the  epistle  in  the  Revelations,  was  not  in 
a  state  of  apostacy.  Still  there  was  found  in  it  great 
zeal  for  apostolic  order,  and  evangelical  truths,  and 
purity  of  living;  it  was  decaying,  however,  in  that 
which  is  better  than  faith,  and  knowledge,  and  zeal; 
it  had  left  its  "  first  love."  It  no  longer  loved  Christ, 
as  it  had  in  the  first  days  of  its  knowledge  of  His 
gospel ;  and   consequently  there  was  no  longer  the 


228  LEAVING   THE    FIRST    LOVE. 

same  desire  and  effort  to  extend  the  glad  tidings  of 
salvation  to  those  who  had  never  heard  them.  It 
was  still  a  decent,  regular,  orderly  Church  in  exter- 
nals ;  but  the  outward  forms  were  losing  the  inward 
spirit ;  for  no  Church  fails  first  in  its  outward  ob- 
servances: indeed  these  continue  long  after  it  has 
only  "a  name  to  live."  Now  this  is  a  state,  into  which 
national  Churches,  families,  and  individuals,  are  too 
apt  to  fall.  We  see  congregations,  for  instance,  slowly 
declining,  after  flourishing  for  a  number  of  years. 
In  such  an  one  brotherly  love  fails  between  its  mem- 
bers. The  seasons  of  public  worship  are  less  nu- 
merous than  formerly,  and  but  little  improved.  The 
Sunday  School  is  neglected,  and  dwindles  away. 
Parochial  plans  for  doing  good,  which  once  excited 
great  interest,  are  almost  disused.  Outward  decency 
remains,  but  it  is  the  decency  of  death.  And  thus 
too  with  the  individual.  There  was  a  time  when 
for  him  "to  live"  w^as  "Christ;"  prayer,  public  and  pri- 
vate, religious  reading,  and  conversation  with  pious 
friends,  made  up  his  chiefest  pleasures.  But  he  has 
left  his  "first  love."  Jesus  is  still  in  his  heart;  but 
some  created  being,  has  approached  too  near  the 
Saviour's  throne,  and  seems  about  to  occupy  it. 
The  closet  and  the  Church  are  dull  places  now; 
though  he  seeks  them  at  the  stated  times.  He  does 
something  for  the  cause  of  Christ ;  but  he  does  it  of 
necessity,  to  keep  up  appearances.  Ah,  is  it  strange 
that  to  such  a  disciple  Jesus  sends  the  message,  "  I 
have  somewhat  against  thee,  because  thou  has  left 
thy  first  love  ?"  Brethren,  does  the  description  suit 
any  of  us,  or  does  it  not?     If  our  hearts  condemn  us 


LEAVING   THE    FIRST    LOVE.  229 

not,  and  if  we  have  increased  in  love  to  Jesus;  still, 
remembering  the  declination,  the  fatal  declination, 
of  the  Church  of  Ephesus,  it  becometh  us  not  to  be 
"  high  minded,  but  to  fear." 

But  the  state  of  the  Ephesian  Church  was  not,  at 
that  time,  desperate;  and,  therefore,  our  blessed  Lord 
sets  before  them  the  means  of  restoration  :  "  Remem- 
ber, therefore,  from  whence  thou  art  fallen;  and  re- 
pent, and  do  thy  first  works."  The  remembrance 
of  privileges  and  blessings,  which  we  have  once  en- 
joyed, and  now  forfeited,  is  often  the  instrument  used 
by  God  to  lead  men  to  repentance  and  newness  of 
life.  Thus  it  was  with  the  prodigal  son.  It  was 
the  imaa^e  of  his  father's  house  aboundino^  in  com- 
forts  and  delights,  that  gave  him  resolution  to  arise, 
and  go  to  his  father.  Often  the  thought  of  better 
days  comes  over  the  apparently  abandoned  sinner; 
and  as  he  looketh  back  upon  the  home  of  his  child- 
hood, the  instructions  and  admonitions  of  his  pious 
parents;  as  he  remembereth  the  still  evening  hour, 
when  he  followed  his  mother's  voice  in  prayer  and 
praise;  he  takes  the  first  step  in  his  heavenward 
journey;  humbled  and  convicted,  for  the  first  time, 
for  long  years,  he  bends  his  trembling  knees,  and 
in  broken  accents,  pours  out  his  soul  to  God.  And 
it  should  seem,  that  the  recalling  of  privileges  and 
joys,  would  have  a  similar  effect  upon  the  decayed 
Church,  or  the  fallen  Christian.  We  think,  if  the 
Churches  of  Greece,  or  Italy,  could  have  their  atten- 
tion drawn  to  their  elder  days,  when  Paul's  voice 
was  lifted  up  among  them;  when  their  faith  was 
spoken  of  throughout  the  world,  and  they  gave  of 


230  LEAVING  THE  FIRST  LOVE. 

their  gold,  and  their  silver,  and  their  lands,  in  God's 
cause;  that  they  would  renounce  their  grovelling  su- 
perstitions, and  their  dangerous  additions  to  the  true 
Catholic  faith,  and  go  back  to  the  pure  truths,  simple 
observances,  and  noble  piety  of  Apostolic  times.  We 
have  sometimes  thought,  that  even  cruel  Rome,  the 
mother  of  abominations,  "drunken  with  the  blood  of 
the  saints  "  of  the  Most  High,  should  rather  be  ex- 
horted to  remember  whence  she  had  fallen ;  than  to  be 
addressed  in  the  language  of  stern  denunciation,  used 
and  approved  by  some,  who  strive  to  catch  the  spirit, 
and  adopt  the  views,  of  our  great  Reformers.  At 
any  rate,  the  Saviour  (and  He  knows  what  is  in 
man,  and  how  he  may  be  moved)  thus  strove  to  win 
back  the  Church  of  Ephesus  to  her  best  estate.  And 
thus  He  strives  now  to  win  every  declining  Church, 
and  private  Christian,  from  that  spiritual  slumber, 
which  is  the  beginning  of  eternal  death.  He  says 
this  day  to  all  of  us,  who  have  left  our  first  love, 
^'-Rememher  from  whence  thou  art  fallen  P''  And  do 
we  address  one,  any  one,  in  whose  life  Job's  lamen- 
tation is  appropriate,  *'  Oh  that  I  were  as  in  months 
past,  as  in  the  days  when  God  preserved  me;  when 
his  candle  shined  upon  my  head ;  and  when,  by  his 
light,  I  w^alked  through  darkness;  as  I  was  in  the 
days  of  my  youth,  when  the  secret  of  God  was  upon 
my  tabernacle,  when  the  Almighty  was  yet  Mdth 
me :"  do  we  address  any  Christian,  whose  soul  is 
now  cold,  dull,  dark,  and  destitute  of  a  cheering  sense 
of  God's  presence?  We  say  to  you,  in  our  dear 
Lord's  own  words,  "Remember  from  whence  thou 
art   fallen!"       If  yoii    truly   lament    your   present 


LEAVING  THE  FIRST  LOVE.  231 

wretched  condition ;  if  you  honestly  acknowledge  to 
yourself,  that  you  have  dechned  in  love,  and  faith, 
and  zeal;  and  if  you  earnestly  wish  to  go  back  to 
Christ,  and  to  have  Christ  formed  anew  in  your  soul ; 
the  first  thing  which  you  should  do,  is  to  recal  your 
former  blessed  state.  Go  into  your  chamber;  shut 
out  the  cares,  the  griefs,  the  joys,  the  hopes,  the  fears, 
the  friendships,  the  enmities  of  earth;  and  summon 
up  before  you  those  blessed  hours,  when  first  you 
knew  the  Lord.  Then  you  were  agonized  at  the 
thought  of  your  innumerable  sins  against  the  good 
God ;  you  were  melted  with  gratitude  at  the  thought 
of  the  love  of  Jesus,  which  led  Him  to  die  for  you; 
you  loved  God  above  all  things;  and  it  was  your 
meat  and  drink  to  do  His  will.  Your  first  wakins: 
thoughts  were  of  God ;  and  in  communion  with  him 
your  last  moments  of  consciousness  were  always 
passed.  To  grow  in  grace  yourself,  to  bring  all  the 
impenitent  about  you  to  Christ,  and  to  prepare  for 
heaven,  were  the  great  objects  of  your  life;  and 
when  you  thought  of  death,  you  thought  of  it  as  the 
admission  to  the  presence  of  Him  who  loved  you,  and 
gave  Himself  for  you.  And  now,  how  are  you  fallen ! 
Sin  troubles  you  not ;  the  love  of  Christ  moves  you 
not;  you  are  cold  and  careless  in  prayer,  and  a  mere 
formalist  in  all  duties.  To  have  the  o^ood  thins^s  of 
life,  and  the  favour  of  earthly  friends,  is  your  chief 
aim.  You  never  now  warn  the  careless,  for  you  are 
fast  becoming  careless  yourselves.  You  think  of 
death ;  but  you  have  forgotten  that  it  leads  to  Jesus, 
and  you  shrink  from  it  as  terrible.  Oh,  my  friend, 
remember  from  whence  thou  art  fallen;  and  repent, 


232  LEAVING  THE  FIRST  LOVE. 

and  do  thy  first  work.  Retrace  the  painful,  but  pro- 
fitable, step  of  repentance.  Humble  yourselves  in 
prayer,  until  God  lifts  up  the  light  of  his  counte- 
nance upon  you,  through  faith  in  the  Cross.  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  same  now,  as  he  was  in  the  hour  of 
your  conversion;  and  he  would  not  call  upon  you  to 
return  to  Him,  were  He  not  ready,  yea,  longing  to 
return  to  you. 

But,  lest  the  remembrance  of  what  they  had  been, 
should  have  no  effect  upon  the  members  of  the  declin- 
ing Church  of  Ephesus,  the  Saviour  adds  to  His  ex- 
hortation, this  fearful  threatening — "  I  will  come  un- 
to thee  quickly,  and  will  remove  thy  candlestick  out 
of  his  place,  except  thou  repent."  By  these  words  is 
meant,  I  will  take  from  thee  the  blessed  light  of  the 
Gospel.  A  punishment,  more  terrible,  cannot  be  ima- 
gined. It  is  thus  described,  in  the  words  of  one  of 
the  old  Prophets;  "Behold  the  days  come,  saith  the 
Lord  God,  that  I  will  send  a  famine  in  the  land; 
not  a  famine  of  bread,  nor  a  thirst  of  water,  but 
of  hearing  the  word  of  the  Lord ;  and  they  shall 
wander  from  sea  to  sea,  and  from  the  north  even  to 
the  east,  they  shall  run  to  and  fro,  to  seek  the  word 
of  the  Lord,  and  shall  not  find  it."  Picture  to  your- 
selves our  own  fair  land,  visited  with  such  a  doom ; 
the  Bible  destroyed;  our  Churches  overthrown;  no 
voice  heard  to  tell  the  guilty  of  an  all-sufficient  Sa- 
viour. No  hope  glimmers  in  the  sick  room,  or  in 
the  sepulchre.  Animosity  and  idolatry  w^ill  break, 
like  a  flood,  upon  us;  and  the  very  name  of  Chris- 
tianity be  lost.  What  doom  can  be  more  terrible 
than  this!     Come  fire,  come  famine,  come  sword. 


LEAVING  THE  FIRST  LOVE.  233 

come  plague;  Lord,  chastise  us  in  any  manner  thou 
pleasest!  Only  leave  us  the  blessed  light  of  thy 
everlasting  Gospel ! 

The  punishment  threatened  in  the  text  was  fear- 
fully executed  upon  the  Ephesian  Church.  The 
once  famous  city  of  Ephesus  is  now  an  inconside- 
rable village,  inhabited  by  herdmen  and  husband- 
men. Ruined  cottages  stand  amid  the  stately  ruins 
of  by-gone  days.  Only  one  of  the  churches  remain; 
and  that  is  converted  into  a  Turkish  mosque.  The 
religion  of  Christ  is  almost  forgotten  in  the  city,  that 
echoed  with  the  preaching  of  Paul,  and  John,  and 
Timothy.  The  denunciation  has  been  fulfilled,  that 
their  candlestick  should  be  removed  out  of  its  place. 
From  this  sad  fact  our  Church  and  individual  be- 
lievers may  learn  a  useful  lesson.  The  heads  of 
the  Church  planted  in  this  land,  may  learn,  that  if 
she  leaves  her  first  love,  neglects  her  duty  to  the 
benighted  world,  and  becomes  cold,  and  careless, 
and  proud,  and  worldly-minded,  the  light  of  the 
gospel  will  be  removed  from  her.  No  service, 
however  beautiful;  no  creed  and  articles,  however 
sound;  no  ministry,  however  apostolic  in  its  com- 
mission, can  perpetuate  a  Church  that  ceases  to  love 
Christ.  The  promises  of  perpetuity  and  glory  are 
made  to  the  Church  at  large;  not  to  any  one  branch 
of  it  in  particular.  The  Church  Catholic  shall  con- 
tinue till  the  end  of  time,  although  the  Church  in 
the  United  States  may  perish,  even  as  the  Church 
of  Ephesus.  Let  us,  then,  as  a  body,  be  fearful, 
rather  than  boastful.  If  God  spared  not  the  earliest 
branches  of  His  vine,  when  they  became  barren  and 

30 


234  LEAVING   THE    FIRST   LOVE. 

unprofitable,  "take  heed  also  lest  He  spare  not 
thee !"  No  ministers  of  vengeance,  like  those  which 
conducted  the  Asiatic  Churches,  seem  hovering 
about  us ;  but  God  never  looks  for  agents  to  do  His 
work :  and  our  candlestick  will  at  once  be  removed 
out  of  its  place,  if  ever  the  word  goes  forth  con- 
cerning us,  "the  kingdom  of  God  shall  be  taken 
from  you,  and  given  to  a  nation  bringing  forth  the 
fruit  thereof" 

And  the  same  remark  may  be  applied  to  individual 
Christians.  God  predestinates  the  body  of  believers 
to  everlasting  glory;  but  He  nowhere  in  Scripture 
says  that  He  predestinates  any  individuals  to  be  per- 
severing believers.  The  Church,  as  such,  shall  at- 
tain to  glory,  but  not  all  its  members.  Twelve 
thrones  were  solemnly  promised  to  the  twelve  apos- 
tles ;  yet  Judas,  one  of  them,  lost  his  apostleship,  and 
his  place  was  supplied  by  Matthias.  There  are  two 
sorts  of  branches  growing  upon  one  vine.  These, 
bearing  fruit,  will  flourish  in  eternity.  These,  bear- 
ins  not  fruit,  will  be  cut  off  and  burned.  Let  not 
the  Christian,  wdio  has  left  his  first  love,  deceive 
himself  with  the  notion  that,  because  he  was  once  in 
Christ,  therefore  he  can  never  be  sent  from  Him. 
There  is  no  such  doctrine  to  be  found  in  the  Bible, 
whatever  may  be  set  forth  in  popular  human  systems. 
St.  Paul  told  the  Ephesians,  that  they  should  be 
presented  "  Holy,  unblamable,  and  unreprovable," 
in  the  sight  of  Christ,  if  they  continued  in  the  faith 
grounded  and  settled,  and  were  not  moved  away 
from  the  hope  of  the  gospel.  And  it  is  only  upon  the 
same  condition,  that  any  one  shall  enter  into  glory. 


LEAVING  THE  FIRST  LOVE.  235 

If,  therefore,  any  lukewarm  and  falling  Christian  be 
consoling  himself  with  the  thought  that  he  cannot 
finally  fall,  and  so  put  off  the  return  to  his  first  love, 
we  exhort  him  to  be  often  among  the  desolation  of 
the  seven  Churches.  He  may  learn  a  lesson  there, 
which  will  bring  down  the  high  thought.  God,  my 
friend,  can  do  without  you;  your  throne  will  be 
given  to  some  Matthias,  raised  in  your  stead.  Re- 
member, therefore,  from  whence  thou  art  fallen ;  re- 
pent and  do  thy  first  work  ;  else,  the  little  light,  that 
remaineth  in  thee,  shall  be  extinguished,  and  the 
blackness  of  darkness  shall  be  thy  everlasting  portion. 


SERMON  XX. 

NO  PEACE  FOR  THE  WICKED. 


But  the  wicked  are  like  llie  troubled  soa  that  cannot  rest,  whose 
waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt.  There  is  no  peace,  saith  nny  God, 
to  the  wicked. 

Isaiah,  Ivii.  20,  21. 

The  truth  contained  in  these  words,  is  an  eternal 
truth,  and  is  inwardly  attested  by  every  intelligent 
creature  in  the  universe,  who  has  ever  set  his  will  in 
opposition  to  that  of  the  Almighty.  The  angels, 
which  kept  not  their  first  estate ;  the  spirits  of  the 
disobedient  in  every  age ;  every  bad  man,  who  is  now 
breathing  the  breath  of  life;  every  heart  in  this 
Church,  which  is  not  habitually  set  to  do  or  suffer 
the  will  of  God,  would  tell  us,  with  bitter  lamenta- 
tions, if  they  would  speak  the  truth,  "there  is  no 
peace  to  the  wicked."  The  ocean,  in  its  wildest 
revels,  angrily  tossing  its  waters  to  the  clouds,  and 
uttering  its  hoarse  roaring,  is  the  aptest  emblem, 
in  all  nature,  of  the  unsanctified  heart.  True,  like 
the  sea,  it  has  its  seasons  of  cnlraness;  but  they  are 
ever  preceded  and  followed  by  storms;  and  in  its 
stillest  moments,  it  holds,  as  part  and  parcel  of  itself, 
those  elements  of  strife,  which  the  slightest  breath 
can  aofitate  or  set  in  commotion.  Now,  well  would 
it  be  for  man,  if  the  truth  contained  in  the  text  could 


NO  PEACE  FOR  THE  WICKED.         237 

have  an  abiding  place  in  his  mind  and  heart ;  if  he 
could  be  brought  to  feel  that  God  has  made  misery 
to  be  a  necessary  consequence  of  sin,  even  as  he  has 
decreed  that  pain  should  follow,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
upon  bodily  injury.  Many  persons  seem  to  suppose 
that  divine  punishments  resemble  human  in  all 
points;  and  that  the  punishments  of  the  world  to 
come,  like  imprisonments,  or  death,  or  fines  with  us, 
will  be  inflicted  or  withheld,  according  to  the  will  of 
Jehovah,  and  think  that,  if  withheld  in  His  mercy, 
the  sinner  would  be  necessarily  happy.  They  have 
no  idea  that  sin  produces  misery,  as  naturally  as  the 
grain  of  wheat  sown  in  the  earth  produces  wheat: 
for,  surely,  if  they  did  know  the  connection,  which 
has  ever  existed,  and  will  ever  exist,  between  sin  and 
suffering,  they  would  not  so  wantonly  sow  seeds, 
which  must,  in  the  harvest  of  life,  produce  sorrow  and 
shame.  But  it  is  thought  that  reflection  will  make 
it  evident  to  any  one,  that  sin  must  always,  and  does 
always,  produce  misery ;  and  that  a  man  may  as  cer- 
tainly know  from  his  conduct,  what  moral  harvest  he 
will  reap,  as  the  husbandman  knows  what  sort  of 
grain  he  will  have,  in  a  certain  field,  from  the  seed 
with  which  it  was  sown. 

"There  is  no  peace,  saith  my  God,  to  the  wicked." 
It  will  be  our  object  to  show  that  this  is  true,  both  in 
the  life  that  now  is,  and  in  that  which  is  to  come. 
And,  first,  we  shall  speak  of  the  fact,  as  illustrated  in 
the  present  life.  Peace,  as  used  in  our  text,  means 
a  freedom  from  agitation  or  disturbance.  Now  this 
peace  cannot  be  possessed  by  the  wicked,  from  the 
restlessness  of  unruly  wills  and  affections.    You  may 


238  NO    PEACE    FOR   THE    WICKED. 

imagine  a  bad  man,  surrounded  with  all  the  sources 
of  pleasure  that  this  world  affords;  his  homestead 
shall  be  fine  and  beautiful ;  he  shall  be  in  bodily 
health,  and  capable  of  all  physical  enjoyments ;  yea, 
we  will  allow  him  a  mind  fitted  for  intellectual  de- 
lights, and  books,  and  museums,  and  cabinets,  and 
every  thing  by  which  it  can  be  exercised  and  eleva- 
ted; and  yet,  you  shall  find  in  that  man's  breast,  de- 
spite all  the  glitter,  and  splendour,  and  solid  com- 
fort of  his  estate  in  life,  the  elements  of  misery,  which 
nothing  earthly  can  charm  into  rest.  The  radical 
distinction  between  a  good  and  bad  man,  is,  that  a 
good  man  has  given  up  his  will  to  God,  and  a  bad 
man  is  self-willed.  Now",  that  self-will  is  an  unfail- 
ing source  of  misery  to  its  possessor,  unless  he  is 
omnipotent,  able  to  do  whatever  he  wills,  is  readily 
seen.  We  can  see  this  fact  in  the  fretfulness  and 
unhappiness  of  a  child,  who  has  been  crossed  in  his 
wishes.  We  have  probably  all  experienced  it  at 
some  time  of  our  lives,  when  we  have  been  disap- 
pointed in  some  favourite  project.  Let  the  wretched 
be  ever  so  prosperous  in  life,  ever  so  favoured  in  his 
plans,  he  never  has  every  thing  his  own  v/ay;  and 
that  one  dispensation,  that  goes  contrary  to  his  wish- 
es, how  it  disquiets  his  heart,  and  poisons  his  bliss ! 
He  is  ready  in  his  fury  to  give  all  his  possessions  to 
destruction,  only  because  in  one  thing  his  own  will 
is  opposed.  Constantly  liable  to  be  thus  crossed,  un- 
able to  submit  to  events  wdiich  are  counter  to  his 
wishes,  for  a  firm  faith  in  the  unerrinjr  wisdom  and 
perfect  goodness  of  God,  there  can  be  no  peace  to  an 
unsubduerl  heart;  to  any  heart  that  is  not  perfectly  re- 


NO  PEACE  FOR  THE  WICKED.         239 

signed  to  the  will  of  its  good  Creator.  A  single  glance 
at  the  evidence,  will  convince  yon  of  the  facts  of  the 
case ;  that  there  is  no  peace  to  the  self-willed  person. 
And,  let  us  ask,  is  it  not  perfectly  reasonable  that  it 
should  be  so,  that  the  man,  who  will  not  submit  to 
God's  will,  should  be  miserable?  We  are  in  being 
solely  because  God  willed  it;  every  breath  is  of  his 
pleasure;  every  thing  we  have  is  from  his  bounty. 
"  Of  Him,  and  to  Him,  and  for  Him  are  all  things." 
And  if  a  creature  opposes  such  a  Creator,  is  it  not 
reasonable  that  he  should  suffer  for  his  opposition? 
Nay,  in  the  nature  of  things,  must  not  a  creature 
made  to  submit,  who  undertakes  to  rebel,  be  misera- 
ble. As  -well  may  a  planet  move  unharmed  from  its 
decreed  orbit,  as  a  creature  oppose  the  will  of  the 
source  of  happiness,  and  be  happy. 

We  have  thus  noticed  the  chief  ingredient  in  the 
earthly  misery  of  the  wicked ;  there  are  others,  which 
are  mingled  in  the  cup  of  bitterness  that  he  chooses 
to  drink.  The  wicked  is  under  the  dominion  of  pas- 
sions and  appetites,  which  keep  him  far  from  peace. 
The  mere  having  of  appetites  and  passions  is  in  it- 
self no  evil.  Indeed  we  could  not  do  without  them 
in  our  present  state  of  being.  Excellent  servants  do 
they  make,  but  they  are  terrible  masters;  and  gener- 
rally  the  wicked  takes  them  for  his  lords.  Now  we 
care  not  what  appetite  be  named,  but  the  dominion 
of  any  one  of  them  is  attended  or  followed  by  certain 
misery.  We  care  not  vvdiat  passion  has  the  ascen- 
dency in  the  heart;  for  they  all,  being  in  power,  work 
sorrow  and  death.  Avarice  is  the  master  passion  of 
thousands;   and  wherever  it  reiofns,  neace  never  so 


240  MO    PEACE    FOR    THE    WICKED. 

much  as  knocks  at  the  door.  Each  boon  that  it  ob- 
tains, only  inflames  the  desire;  and  the  more  it  gets, 
the  more  it  craves.  Envij  poisons  its  own  cup,  be- 
cause its  brother  is  happy;  and  turns  away  in  disgust 
from  the  choicest  gifts,  if  others  be  blessed  like  itself. 
Sensual  passions,  of  all  sorts,  if  they  be  put  in  the 
place  of  rulers,  sting  the  heart  to  madness,  and  wdth 
every  gratification  grow  wilder  and  more  ungovern- 
able than  before.  There  needs  no  learned  argument 
to  prove  this  point.  It  is  a  well  established  principle 
of  man's  nature,  that  there  is  no  peace  to  those  under 
the  dominion  of  any  wrong  passion  or  desire. 

The  last  element  of  the  earthly  "unhappiness  of 
every  evil  doer,  which  we  shall  name,  is  fear;  and 
there  are  few  so  hardened  as  not  sometimes  to  be 
distressed  by  its  visitations.  The  very  invitation  of 
the  sensual  to  each  other  has  in  itself  a  thought  to 
poison  joy.  "Let  us  eat  and  drink, ybr  to-morrow 
we  dieV  The  very  reason,  that  nerves  the  wicked 
to  sensual  pleasure,  makes  sensual  pleasure  fearful. 
Fill  your  goblets  to  the  brim,  load  your  table  with 
delicacies,  intoxicate  all  the  senses  with  delights,  to- 
day, because  to-morrow  you  die :  and  because  you 
do  die  to-morrow,  to-day's  feast  is  turned  into  mourn- 
ing ;  there  is  bitterness  in  the  wine  cup,  and  loath- 
ins:  of  the  rich  viands;  and  the  imao^e  of  death 
haunts  your  revels,  like  a  skeleton  at  an  Egyptian 
banquet.  Fear,  which  renders  the  wicked  incapable 
of  peace,  is  manifested  in  them  as  dreading  the  loss 
of  present  joys  and  possessions,  and  also  as  increasing 
positive  evils  in  futurity.  Give  a  man  the  greatest 
of  earthly  blessings,  and  if  his  heart  is  wholly  on 


NO    PEACE    FOR   THE    WICKED.  241 

them,  he  cannot  be  at  peace,  while  he  carries  about 
with  him  a  sense  of  insecurity  in  the  possession.  "It 
may  be  all  gone  to-morrow,"  is  a  thought  that  robs 
us  of  the  enjoyment  of  to-day;  and  when  any  one 
centres  all  his  joys  and  hopes  in  earthly  possession, 
will  not  such  a  thought  ever  keep  him  from  the  way 
of  peace?  But  the  fear  to  which  we  chiefly  allude, 
is  that  dread  of  something  after  death,  which  con- 
science tells  the  wicked  is  to  come.  The  wicked 
knows  that,  do  what  he  will,  he  must  die;  that  an 
hour  will  come  along,  in  the  circle  of  years,  when 
he  shall  cease  to  breathe;  when  men  shall  say,  in 
the  busy  streets,  that  he  is  gone;  and  when  his  body, 
cold  and  still,  shall  be  extended,  at  fearful  length, 
upon  the  naked  bed.  *'Ah,  then !"  he  asks  his  heart, 
"where  shall  I  be  then?"  He  knows,  that  if  there 
be  an  Almighty  God,  who  regards  the  actions  of 
men  as  right  or  wrong,  and  rewards  and  punishes 
them  accordingly;  he  knows,  that  if  the  threatenings 
of  the  Bible  be  true,  he  has  nothing  but  horror  be- 
fore him.  And  is  not  the  bare  possibility  of  the 
truth  of  these  things,  quite  enough  to  disquiet  any 
one  who  admits  it?  And  it  does  disquiet  him,  say 
what  he  may.  There  is  no  peace  to  the  thinking 
sinner.  If  he  can  only  stupify  his  mind,  he  may  be 
at  ease;  but  as  long  as  reason  utters  the  faintest 
w^hisper  amid  the  mad  rovings  of  passion,  reason 
will  tell  him  that  there  is  a  good  God ;  and  that  God 
hates  sin  ;  and  that  he  himself  is  a  sinner ;  and  that 
the  vengeance  of  God  will  overtake  him  at  last. 
And  while  reason  tells  him  these  things,  it  is  just  as 
impossible  for  his  heart  to  be  at  peace,  as  for  the 

31 


242  NO    PEACE    FOR    THE    WICKED. 

waters  of  the  cataract  to  flow  qaietly  over  the  preci- 
pice down  which  they  are  wont  to  hurry  and  rage. 
He  will  try  to  make  us  think  that  he  is  happy;  per- 
haps he  will  try  to  persuade  himself  that  he  is 
happy;  but  his  heart  will  ache,  in  spite  of  his  decep- 
tions; for  it  is  an  everlasting  law  of  Jehovah,  "There 
is  no  peace  to  the  wicked." 

You  have  thus  seen,  that  in  the  life  that  now  is, 
self-will,  passions,  and  appetites,  and  the  fear  of  futu- 
rity, keep  peace  from  the  wicked.  We  ask  you, 
then,  why  you  will  not  come  to  Christ,  and  ask  him 
to  change  your  hearts  ?  Do  you  love  misery,  that 
you  keep  on  sinning?  You  can  never  be  happy, 
unless  you  become  true  Christians;  for  no  one  can 
be  happy  in  this  world  of  frailty  and  death,  whose 
will  is  not  surrendered  to  God,  whose  appetites  are 
not  subdued  to  reason,  and  who  is  without  a  reason- 
able hope  of  happiness  beyond  the  grave,  which  will 
soon  be  dug  to  receive  him. 

In  the  present  life,  sin  brings  misery;  reason  tells 
us  that  it  is  probable,  and  revelation  that  it  is  certain, 
that  misery  will  still  be  the  portion  of  the  wicked 
in  that  state  of  existence,  upon  which  we  shall  all 
soon  enter.  Of  the  duration  of  this  misery  reason 
can  tell  us  nothing;  while  revelation  certifies  us 
that  it  will  be  perpetual.  The  word  of  God,  literally 
taken,  represents  the  future  misery  of  the  wicked 
as  consisting  in  physical  torture  and  suffering. 
That  the  scriptural  descriptions  of  future  punishment 
divejigurative,  is  a  thing  which  we  shall  not  presume 
to  say.  They  may  be,  and  they  may  not  be.  We 
are  to  have  bodies  at  the  resurrection ;  but  while  in 


NO    PEACE    FOR    THE    WICKED.  243 

ignorance  of  their  nature,  for  "  it  doth  not  yet  ap- 
pear what  we  shall  be,"  it  is  presumptuous  to  de- 
cide such  a  question.  We  merely  state  the  opinion, 
that  the  misery  of  mind  and  heart  in  the  w^orld  to 
come  will  probably  be  like  that,  which  is  experienced 
by  the  wicked  in  this  life.  We  take  it  for  granted, 
that  the  moral  or  spiritual  part  of  a  bad  man  w^iil 
be  unaltered  by  death ;  and  this  being  the  case,  the 
same  thing,  which  made  up  his  misery  in  this  world, 
will  be  mingled  in  the  cup,  which  will  be  given 
him  to  drink  in  the  abode  of  the  lost.  His  misery 
there  will,  like  his  miseiy  here,  be  a  simple  carrying 
out  of  the  everlasting  law  of  God,  that  there  shall  be 
no  peace  to  the  disobedient  and  the  self-willed.  And 
viewing  future  punishment  in  this  light,  how  in- 
evitable it  seems.  God  gave  man  a  nature  subject 
to  these  laws,  holiness  produces  peace,  and  wicked- 
ness misery;  and  man,  choosing  to  be  a  sinner,  must 
make  up  his  mind  to  suffer.  We  wish  that  we 
could  bring  the  wicked  to  think  of  future  punish- 
ment in  this  way.  While  they  think  of  it  as  like 
earthly  punishments  in  certain  respects,  there  will 
be  lurking  in  their  hearts  the  hope,  that  God  will  be 
too  merciful  to  inflict  it.  But  if  they  look  upon  it 
as  a  necessary  consequence  of  sin,  as  a  thing  which 
must  follow  sin,  they  wall  surely  be  more  afraid  to 
sin.  Thus  a  man  will  steal,  hoping  that  in  some  way, 
either  through  want  of  evidence,  or  the  mercy  of 
the  magistrates,  he  shall  escape  the  punishment; 
for  he  knows  that  there  is  no  necessary  connection 
between  crime  and  earthly  punishment,  since  he 
sees  many  criminals  go  "unwhipt  of  justice;"  but 


244         NO  PEACE  FOR  THE  WICKED. 

he  will  not  starve,  for  he  knows  that  there  is  a  ne- 
cessary connection  between  taking  nourishment  and 
life.  Now  you  all  will  allow,  that  in  this  life  sin 
produces  misery;  what  reason  can  you  bring  to 
show,  that  this  rule  will  cease  to  operate  in  the  life  to 
come  ?  If  you  can  bring  none,  and  we  are  sure  that 
you  can  bring  none,  we  on  the  other  hand  have 
many  reasons  to  show  that  the  law,  that  "  sin  shall 
produce  sorrow,"  will  be  perpetual  in  its  operations. 
These  are  drawn  chiefly  from  the  unalterable  nature 
of  sin,  and  of  God,  and  from  what  is  seen  of  the  deal- 
ings of  God  in  this  world.  We  see  here  the  misery, 
which  a  spirit  of  hatred,  or  pride,  or  envy,  or  avarice, 
brings  upon  a  person  under  their  influence ;  and 
while  such  a  spirit  reigns  in  a  man,  misery  must  at- 
tend it ;  and  so  it  matters  not  whether  fires,  and  dun- 
geons, and  chains  await  us  in  the  world  to  come,  if 
a  wicked  heart  is  not  taken  from  a  sinner  in  the  hour 
of  death ;  if  it  remains  with  him,  forever  in  himself 
he  bears  torments,  as  terrible  as  any  that  can  be 
imagined.  The  wicked  must,  in  order  to  have  a  rea- 
sonable hope  of  peace  beyond  the  grave,  have  a 
reasonable  expectation  that  death  will  change  his 
heart.  If  he  has  no  such  expectation,  then  he  may 
be  horribly  afraid  of  the  prospect  of  the  everlasting 
operation  of  the  law,  "  there  is  no  peace  to  the 
wicked." 

And  now  imagine  for  a  moment  the  moral  suffer- 
inof  of  the  condemned.  Self-will  still  reigns  in  the 
being,  whom  omnipotence  has  chained  down  forever. 
Passions  and  appetites  that  can  neither  be  subdued 
nor  gratified,  forever   rage  in   the   heart;    impotent 


NO    PEACE    FOR   THE    WICKED.  245 

hatred  maddens,  and  perpetual  fear  of  fresh  misery 
oppresses  it.  Can  we  conceive  of  greater  suffering 
than  this?  Oh  you,  who  are  now  under  the  power 
of  any  master  passion,  and  are  conscious  of  the  suf- 
fering that  it  causes  you,  only  think  of  that  suffering 
as  perpetual,  and  you  have  a  true  idea  of  the  misery 
that  awaits  the  lost;  that  awaits  you,  unless  God 
gives  you  here  a  new  heart,  and  you  are  delivered 
from  the  dominion  of  sin. 

"  There  is  no  peace,  saith  my  God  to  the  wicked." 
The  practical  lesson  taught  us  by  this  subject  is  this, 
that  in  order  to  be  happy  here  and  hereafter,  we  must 
have  holiness,  as  well  as  pardon  of  our  past  sins.  We 
do  not  say  this,  because  we  believe  that  the  two  are 
separated  in  God's  dealings  with  us.  Whom  God 
justifies,  He  also  sanctifies;  when  He  admits  a  sinner 
to  pardon,  He  gives  him  a  new  nature.  But  we 
say  it,  because  some,  who  retain  sinful  affections 
and  desires,  still  have  some  hope  of  pardon  at  the 
last  day,  from  the  general  mercy  of  God,  or  the 
blessed  sacrifice  of  the  Cross.  Now,  if  there  can  in 
the  nature  of  things  be  no  peace  to  the  wicked, 
such  a  hope  is  at  once  done  away.  While  you  keep 
sin,  you  keep  misery;  no  pardon  can  avail  you. 
You  might  be  admitted  into  heaven ;  but,  if  you 
went  there  self-willed  and  proud,  or  lustful,  or  en- 
vious, you  would  have  moral  and  mental  torment, 
in  a  body  incapable  of  physical  suffering;  your  spirit 
w^ould  writhe  within  you,  while  your  ears  drank  in 
celestial  harmonies ;  and  your  heart  would  ache, 
while  all  around  you  was  bright,  beautiful,  and  at- 


246        NO  PEACE  FOR  THE  WICKED. 

tractive.  Let  us  all  seek  the  one  thing  needful;  a 
delivery  from  the  power  of  sin,  and  a  filial  spirit  of 
obedience  to  the  laws  of  God.  He,  w^ho  has  these 
two  blessings,  is  truly  happy.  They  must  be 
sought  from  Him,  whose  blood,  inwardly  and  out- 
wardly, in  a  forensic  and  in  a  moral  sense,  cleanseth 
from  all  sin. 


SERMON  XX[. 

REVERENT  ATTENDANCE  IN  GOD'S  HOUSE. 
Keep  thy  foot  when  thou  goest  to  the  house  of  God. 

EcCLESIASTES,  V.  i. 

These  words  teach  us  the  duty  of  a  reverent  ap- 
proach to  places  set  apart  for  God's  more  immediate 
worship  and  service.  The  direction  to  keep  the  foot, 
takes  its  rise  in  the  Eastern  custom  of  removing  the 
shoes  or  sandals,  and  of  washing  the  feet,  before  en- 
tering sacred  places;  for  with  the  nations  of  the  east, 
uncovering  the  feet  was  the  sign  of  veneration  and 
respect,  even  as  uncovering  the  head  is  with  us. 
Of  the  necessity  of  reverence  and  respect  in  attend- 
ing the  house  of  God,  no  Christian  needs  to  be  per- 
suaded ;  and  yet  it  is  necessary,  from  time  to  time, 
to  speak  of  the  duty  of  a  due  preparation  for  attend- 
ing the  services  of  the  Church;  since  so  many 
thoughtless  and  careless  people  find  their  way  to  the 
habitations  of  God's  house,  and  the  place  where  His 
honor  dwelleth.  With  you,  my  brethren,  there  can 
be  no  need  of  proving  that  Churches  are,  in  an  espe- 
cial manner,  places  which  God  chooses  to  set  His 
name  there,  and  so  are  holy;  for  you  believe  that 
when  faithful  men  offer  to  the  Almighty  even  a 
temple  made  with  hands.  He  accepts  it,  and  blesses 
it,  and  condescends  to  dwell  there,  and  be  found 
there  of  spiritual  worshippers.     We  shall  therefore 


248   REVERENT  ATTENDANCE  IN  GOD's  HOUSE. 

confine  our  remarks  to  these  three  things :  the  man- 
ner in  which  we  should  approach  the  House  of  God ; 
the  manner  in  which  we  should  conduct  ourselves 
when  there;  and  the  manner  in  which  we  should 
return  to  our  houses.  We  shall  also  take  occasion  to 
notice  some  improprieties  of  conduct  at  Church,  of 
which  we  are  all  too  apt  to  be  guilty.  We  remark, 
in  passing,  that  this  is  a  subject  which  should  be  at- 
tended to  by  the  youngest  member  of  the  Church 
present;  for  as  they  are  more  liable  to  err  in  this 
matter  than  others,  so  should  they  be  more  attentive 
and  careful  in  receiving  the  instruction  which  they 
so  much  need. 

*'  Keep  thy  foot  when  thou  goest  to  the  house  of 
God."  These  words  teach  the  duties  of  previous 
preparation  for  the  services  of  the  sanctuary.  Out- 
ward decency  of  dress  generally  receives  all  the  at- 
tention that  is  due  to  it  in  this  connection;  and  so 
hardly  needs  to  be  noticed,  except,  perhaps,  to  say, 
that  a  neglect  of  it  would,  compounded,  as  man  is, 
both  of  soul  and  body,  in  a  little  while,  produce  the 
neglect  of  what  is  far  more  important — namely,  a 
clean  heart,  and  an  humble  spirit.  It  is  a  wise  and 
venerable  custom,  to  come  to  Church  more  decently 
habited  than  many  of  us  can  ordinarily  be  at  other 
times ;  only  let  the  purity  of  the  outward  man  re- 
mind us  of  the  purity  that  should  be  found,  in  ''the 
hidden  man  of  the  heart."  It  is  within  that  a  pre- 
paration is  chiefly  necessary;  and  it  is  the  inward 
preparation  which  is  chiefly  neglected ;  and  for  the 
want  of  this  the  services  of  the  Church,  and  the  Gos- 
pel of  Christ,  are  often  found  dull  and  unprofitable. 


REVERENT  ATTENDANCE  I\  GOD's  HOUSE.   249 

When  the  worldly-minded  are  about  to  enter  upon 
any  scenes  of  pleasure,  they  indeed  need  no  prepa- 
ration of  heart,  for  their  heart  is  all  in  the  matter  in 
which  they  are  to  be  engaged ;  for  hours  before  they 
mingle  with  the  giddy  throng,  or  join  the  shouts  of 
revelry,  they  have  anticipated  and  imagined  all  the 
delight  to  be  enjoyed ;  and  when  the  wished-for  mo- 
ment has  come,  they  are  entirely  prepared,  in  feel- 
ing and  desire,  for  the  occupations  in  which  they  are 
to  engage.  And  if  our  hearts  were  all  right,  if  we 
loved  God  as  we  ought  to,  we  should  need  no  moral 
preparation  for  Church;  we  should  at  once  be  very 
glad  when  it  was  said  to  us  "let  us  go  into  the  house 
of  the  Lord;"  our  souls  would  have  a  desire,  and  a 
lonfrino-,  to  enter  into  the  courts  of  the  livinor  God. 
But,  alas!  with  many  of  us — perhaps  with  most  of 
us — this  is  not  so.  We  drag  ourselves  to  Church, 
from  habit,  or  because  we  are  compelled  to  do  it,  or 
to  please  some  friend,  or  to  pass  away  the  time. 
Others  there  are  indeed,  who  come  from  a  sense  of 
duty,  upon  a  principle  of  obedience  to  God,  from  a 
sincere  desire  to  please  Him  by  keeping  His  com- 
mandments. But  even  these — the  true  children  of 
God — do  not  always  feel  that  it  is  good  to  be  here. 

"Our  souls  how  heavily  they  go, 
To  reach  eternal  joys." 

Now  would  not  both  these  classes  of  people  enjoy  pub- 
lic worship  much  more,  if  they  would  seek  at  home 
a  preparation  of  heart,  and  endeavour,  on  their  way 
to  Church,  to  control  their  thoughts,  to  call  them  in 
from  the  world,  and  to  fix  them  upon  God  and  the 

32 


250   REVERENT  ATTENDANCE  IN  GOD's  HOUSE. 

momentous  truths  of  religion  ?  It  is  evident  not  only 
that  they  would  enjoy  more,  but  that  they  would 
profit  more.  At  any  rate,  let  us  all  try  the  effect, 
which  due  preparation  will  produce.  Let  God  be 
fervently  invoked  in  private,  before  we  come  to 
Church,  to  give  us  His  blessing  upon  our  attendance ; 
and  when  the  sound  of  the  Church-going  bell  sum- 
mons us  from  our  home,  let  Him  be  in  all  our 
thoughts.  Remember  as  you  come  up,  whose  house 
it  is  that  you  are  about  to  enter,  and  why  you  are 
coming,  and  put  away  all  thoughts  of  w^orldly 
business  and  worldly  pleasure  from  your  minds. 
My  brethren,  do  you  thus  prepare  to  come  to  God's 
house?  Did  you  come  up  here  this  afternoon  thus 
prepared  ?  Did  you  leave  your  Bibles  and  your  closets 
for  this  place  of  prayer?  Or  did  you  come  up  in- 
dulging in  light  and  trifling  conversation;  or  mind- 
ing earthly  things?  Would  you  be  willing  to  have 
the  thoughts,  which  you  brought  along  with  you, 
known  to  this  congregation  ?  Can  you  delight  in  the 
remembrance  that  they  were  all  known  to  Almighty 
God?  We  pray  you  honestly  to  examine  yourselves, 
whether  you  give  heed  to  the  solemn  admonition, 
"  Keep  thy  foot  when  thou  goest  to  the  house  of  God." 
The  text  further  admonishes  us  to  give  heed  to 
our  conduct  when  present  in  the  sanctuary.  Our 
duties  at  Church,  may  be  resolved  into  two,  namely 
worship,  including  prayer  and  praise;  and  the  hear- 
ing of  the  Scriptures  and  the  sermon.  In  order 
to  perform  these  duties  properly  and  acceptably  to 
God,  we  must  give  them  our  sober  and  undivided 
attention ;  and  in  this  respect  how  many  fail.     Only 


REVERENT  ATTENDANCE  IN  GOD's  HOUSE.        251 

consider  the  conduct  of  many  worshippers  during  the 
commencement  of  the  service,  which  is  as  you  well 
know  a  solemn  exhortation  to  confess  your  sins  before 
God.  And  while  it  is  being  read,  how  many  are  the 
wandering  looks,  how  few  seem  to  be  really  intent 
upon  listening  to  the  invitation  and  preparing  to 
obey  it.  But  if  a  Christian  really  keeps  his  foot, 
when  he  goes  to  the  house  of  God,  he  will  endeavour 
to  recall  the  various  sins  of  omission  and  commission, 
which  burden  his  conscience,  and  especially  those 
which  have  defiled  it,  since  he  last  bowed  his  knee 
in  prayer.  We  know  that  there  is  often  an  appear- 
ance of  negligence,  where  it  does  not  really  exist;  but 
we  have  often  been  grieved  at  the  inattention,  with 
which  this  part  of  the  Church  service  is  treated. 
And  surely,  if  we  were  thinking  while  confessing  our 
sins,  we  should  not  be  gazing  about  the  Church,  as 
many  do.  And  if  we  commence  public  worship  in 
this  way,  it  is  no  wonder  that  we  find  it  dull.  Per- 
haps the  best  thing  that  we  could  do,  to  correct  this 
fault,  is  to  avoid  looking  around  in  Church  as  much 
as  possible,  and  to  keep  the  eye  fixed  upon  the  prayer- 
book.  We  are  sure  that,  if  persons  would  follow  this 
direction,  there  would  be  more  engagedness  in  prayer 
in  Church,  and  less  of  that  foolish  gossip  about  people 
and  things,  which  now  too  often  drive  away  all  the 
good  thoughts  that  may  have  been  awakened  in  the 
sanctuary. 

The  same  line  of  remark  might  be  extended  to  va- 
rious other  parts  of  the  duty  of  worship.  We  might 
speak  of  the  feeble  response,  carelessness  in  hymning 
the  praises  of  the  Lord,  and  even  of  the  wandering 


252        REVERENT  ATTENDANCE  IN  GOD's  HOUSE. 

eye,  too  plainly  showing  the  wandering  thought,  in 
the  most  solemn  acts  of  prayer;  but  we  pass  to  the 
duty  of  hearing ;  and  surely,  in  performing  this  duty, 
there  is  many  a  Christian  who  seems  to  need  the 
warning,  "  Keep  thy  foot  when  thou  goest  to  the 
house  of  God."  When  you  hear  a  sermon,  you  lis- 
ten to  a  message  from  God;  and  it  matters  not  who 
may  be  the  messenger,  provided  the  true  message  be 
delivered.  Now  do  the  great  majority  of  Christians 
listen  to  sermons  in  this  spirit?  We  fear  that  they 
do  not;  we  fear  that  there  is  a  most  unholy  feeling 
amongst  us  upon  this  subject.  As  an  evidence  of 
this,  only  witness  the  carelessness  of  certain  persons, 
when  the  favourite  preacher  is  not  in  the  pulpit;  or 
listen  to  the  disdainful  criticisms  with  which  they 
load  the  discourse,  which,  however  humble  it  may 
be  as  a  literary  production,  should  have  been  lis- 
tened to  by  them  in  a  respectful  manner,  as  a  means 
of  spiritual  instruction.  Ah !  do  such  persons  keep 
their  feet,  when  they  go  to  the  sanctuary?  Do  they 
not  rather  come  up  to  its  solemn  courts  to  have  their 
ears  tickled  ;  or  to  offer  the  incense  of  praise  to  the 
poor  frail  creature,  and  not  to  the  glorious  Creator; 
or  to  puff  up  their  own  pride  of  intellect,  by  indulg- 
ing themselves  in  despising  others?  Do  they  not 
set  themselves  to  judge  the  ministers  of  the  Most 
High?  Be  assured  that  all,  who  come  hither  in  this 
spirit,  come  to  give  "the  sacrifice  of  fools."  My 
brethren,  every  orthodox  sermon  you  hear,  either 
profits  you,  or  increases  your  condemnation.  It  will 
be  no  excuse  for  you  at  the  last  day,  that  the  preach- 
er was  dull  and  uninteresting;  if  he  affectionately 


REVERENT  ATTENDANCE  IN  GOD's  HOUSE.        253 

told  you  the  truth,  and  you  did  not  obey  it,  because 
he  was  rude  of  speech,  or  because  he  was  not  the 
one  you  wanted  to  hear,  his  gospel  will  be  to  you  "a 
savour  of  death  unto  death."  Keep  these  thoughts 
in  mind  whenever  you  hear  a  sermon,  and  by  God's 
grace  they  will  make  you  more  reverential  in  your 
conduct  at  His  house.  The  proud  critic  will  be 
changed  into  the  meek  hearer,  and  Christ  will  send 
many  a  message  to  your  watchful  ear  and  prepared 
heart,  from  those  who  have  no  claim  to  eloquence. 
When  we  go  to  the  house  of  God,  let  us  all  put  up 
the  prayer, 

"Lord  grant  me  this  abiding  grace, 

Thy  word  and  Son  to  know, 
To  pierce  the  veil  on  JMoses'  face, 

Although  his  speech  be  slow." 

The  text,  lastly,  teaches  us,  that  if  we  would  profit 
by  the  services  of  the  sanctuary,  we  must  go  from  it 
seriously  and  devoutly ;  and  here  it  is  that  most  of  us 
fail.  Look  at  the  Church,  after  the  blessing  has 
been  pronounced;  instead  of  retiring  silently  and  de- 
voutly when  the  service  is  over,  you  often  see  little 
groups  gathered  together,  engaged  in  conversation, 
which,  as  we  fear,  does  not  harmonize  with  the 
solemn  words  and  holy  strains,  which  have  just  died 
upon  their  ears.  Or  follow  some  of  those  groups 
home;  and  you  shall  hear  of  the  farm  and  the  mer- 
chandise, the  affairs  of  the  household,  and  the  wea- 
ther, and  the  crops;  and,  perhaps,  vain  and  profane 
jests;  or  if  the  conversation  takes  something  of  its 
colouring  from  the  subject,  which  has  just  before  been 
presented  to  their  mind,  it  consists  too  often  in  criti- 


254   REVERENT  ATTENDANCE  IN  GOD's  HOUSE. 

cisms  and  complaints,  which  show  that  the  speakers 
have  forgotten  that  the  services  of  the  Church,  and 
preaching  of  the  Gospel  are  means  of  spiritual  im- 
provement, for  the  use  of  which  they  must  one  day- 
give  an  account.  Now,  in  leaving  the  house  of  God 
in  this  spirit,  you  cannot  possibly  be  profited  by  the 
prayers  which  you  have  offered,  and  the  instructions 
which  you  have  received.  Good  thoughts,  and  holy 
desires,  which  may  have  been  awakened  and  excited 
by  the  previous  exercises,  will  be  driven  away  by  le- 
vity and  trifling  conversation;  you  will  return  to 
your  home  as  empty  as  you  went  forth,  and  the  next 
time  that  you  go  to  Church  it  will  be  duller  than 
ever.  That  these  things  are  so,  we  all  know,  and 
perhaps  from  personal  experience.  And  will  any 
one  ask  what  is  the  use  of  all  this  gravity?  Simply 
that  you  may  improve  by  the  opportunities  of  prayer 
and  praise  and  hearing  God's  word,  which  he  has 
given  you.  And  is  it  not  a  solemn  thing  to  go  from 
Church;  to  reflect  that  you  will  be  called  to  an  ac- 
count of  the  use  that  you  have  made  of  God's  day 
and  God's  ordinances;  to  think  too,  that  you  may 
never  come  there  again ;  or  that  the  next  time  that 
you  pass  the  sacred  gates,  you  may  be  borne  slowly 
along,  to  be  committed  dust  to  dust  ?  The  gay  throngs, 
who  pass  from  the  haunts  of  pleasure,  have  no  need 
to  be  exhorted  to  talk  and  think  of  the  scenes  which 
they  leave  behind;  and  if  our  affections  w^ere  right, 
a  serious  frame  of  mind  after  solemn  acts  would  be 
natural  to  us.  But,  as  it  is  averse  to  spiritual  things 
by  nature,  the  heart  must  be  slowly  turned  to  better 
ways.     And,  my  brethren,  will  you  not  try  to  put  in 


REVERENT  ATTENDANCE  IN  GOD's  HOUSE.   255 

practice  that  which  you  have  heard  this  afternoon? 
Will  you  not,  as  you  go  to  your  homes,  try  to  be  se- 
rious and  devout,  and  to  meditate  upon  the  holy  ser- 
vices of  this  day  ?  Will  you  not,  when  you  reach 
your  homes,  instead  of  taking  up  secular  books,  or 
engaging  in  worldly  conversation,  go  to  your  closets, 
and  pray  God  to  bless  you,  and  all  your  brethren  ;  to 
hear  the  prayers  of  His  Church,  and  give  power  and 
force  to  the  w^ord  preached  by  his  ministers;  to  bless 
the  words  which  we  have  heard  this  day,  to  the  con- 
version of  the  impenitent  amongst  us.  and  the  sancti- 
fication  and  edification  of  the  Christians.  If  you 
would  do  this  Sunday  after  Sunday,  and  be  watchful 
over  your  hearts,  in  time  you  will  acquire  a  serious 
habit  of  mind ;  the  services  of  the  Church  will  never 
be  dull ;  and  even  a  dull,  long  sermon  will  be  to  us 
a  means  of  grace.  Let  us  all,  ministers  and  people, 
put  these  things  in  practice;  for  I  believe  that  we 
shall  all  feel,  that  we  have  been  in  the  habit  of  at- 
tending too  carelessly  and  coldly  upon  the  privileges 
of  God's  house.  And  remember,  if  we  delight  not 
in  the  services  of  the  earthly,  we  shall  have  no 
hearts  for  those  of  the  heavenly  tabernacle;  and  we 
can  never  stand  amid  the  radiant  throngs,  who  com- 
pass the  throne  of  God  with  eternal  hymns  of  praise. 
There  will  be  no  one  in  heaven,  who  did  not  feel  on 
earth  with  the  Psalmist,  "one  day  in  Thy  courts  is 
better  than  a  thousand;  I  had  rather  be  a  door- 
keeper in  the  house  of  my  God,  than  to  dwell  in  the 
tents  of  unofodliness." 


SERMON  XXII. 

EARTHLY  SUFFERING  AND  HEAVENLY  GLORY.* 

[For  the  Fourth  Sunday  after  Trinity.] 

For  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy, 
to  be  compared  with  the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed  in  us. 

Romans,  viii.  18. 

There  are  but  few  people  who  do  not  know  from 
experience  that  this  present  time  has  its  sufferings ; 
and  yet  the  many  seem  never  to  take  them  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  as  a  thing  which  must  come.  Young 
persons  generally  expect  as  a  birthright  a  certain  por- 
tion of  the  comforts  and  good  things  of  this  life  :  and 
if  they  do  not  get  this  portion,  they  feel  that  they 
have  been  cheated  out  of  their  own ;  that  something, 
which  belonged  to  them,  has  been  unrighteously  kept 
back.  This  feeling  is  partly  owing  no  doubt  to  a 
wrong  education.  We  saw,  as  we  grew  up,  parents, 
and  friends,  and  guardians,  and  teachers,  making  set- 
tlements, estates,  comforts,  health,  station,  and  such 
like,  the  great  objects  of  life ;  while  religion  was  pre- 
sented to  us,  as  a  decent  appendage  to  luxuries  and 
refinement,   and  as  something  necessary  to  the  bed 


•  This  was  the  last  Sermon  that  he  ever  wrote — the  fifty-third,  not  fifty-first, 
as  intimated  at  page  Ixxv,  It  was  written  in  anguish  of  body  indescribable,  yet 
in  faith  that  looked  to  Jct^us,  and  so  triumphed  over  pain. 


EARTHLY"  SUFFF.raXG   AM)   HFAVENLV  GI  ORT.     267 

of  death  :  whereas  we  should  have  been  taught,  as  in- 
deed some  of  us  were,  ihiit  wo  were  put  here  to  do 
the  will  of  God ;  that  we  must  expect  suffering  in 
doing-  it ;  but  that  at  the  last  we  should  be  crowned 
with  glory;  and  that  "the  sufferings  of  this  present 
life  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
that  shall  be  revealed."  But  however  educated,  we 
are  here  in  scenes  of  suffering  and  trial,  hurrying  into 
an  invisible  world ;  and  the  question  with  us  is,  shall 
we  cheerfully  incur  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time, 
for  the  joy  that  is  set  before  us ;  or  shall  we  strive  to 
avoid  them,  by  living  here  for  pleasure,  shutting  our 
eyes  upon  eternity,  and  forgetting  its  interests,  hopes, 
and  fears,  until  they  are  fearfully  forced  upon  the  at- 
tention of  our  disembodied  spirits  ?  May  God  give 
us  grace  to  decide  this  question  wisely.  Perhaps,  by 
His  help,  the  following  considerations  will  aid  you  in 
the  decision. 

We  suppose  that  it  will  be  generally  admitted, 
that  all  men,  or  almost  all  men,  suffer  more  or  less  in 
this  life.  That  life  too  has  many  comforts  and  bless- 
ings and  delights,  cannot  possibly  be  denied.  But 
taking  life  as  a  whole,  and  men  as  a  body,  we  find 
sorrows  and  troubles  enough,  in  all  ages  and  classes 
and  stations,  to  justify  the  saying,  that  man  is  born  to 
misery,  that  life  is  a  valley  of  tears.  Childhood,  for 
instance,  is  talked  about  generally  as  the  happiest 
season  of  existence.  We  always  tell  children  that 
theirs  are  the  golden  hours.  And  perhaps  it  is  true. 
Yet  how  much  of  childhood  is  passed  in  sorrow!  It 
has  quite  as  many  tears  as  smiles.  Restraints,  the 
difficulties  of  learning,  the  whims  and  caprices  and 

33 


258  EARTHLY    SUFFFRING 

petty  tyranny  of  superiors,  often  make  the  early  part 
of  life  a  burden,  of  which  we  are  glad  to  be  well  rid. 
We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  this  feeling  is  right.  We 
merely  mention  the  fact.  And  the  after  parts  of  life 
have  their  trials;  weightier  indeed,  because  we  are 
then  able  to  bear  weightier.  Many  of  those,  who 
seem  to  be  well  situated  and  happily  settled  as  we 
say,  have  trials  that  we  do  not  think  of  Some,  who 
seem  to  be  in  health,  are  bending  under  the  pressure 
of  disease;  some,  whose  homes  seem  pleasant  and 
happy  as  can  be  to  careless  spectators,  have  sore  do- 
mestic trials.  Station  brings  envy  and  malice.  Pos- 
sessions are  followed  by  care  and  anxiety.  Middle 
age  is  for  the  most  part  restless  and  worried ;  old 
age  fretful  and  uncomfortable.  "  The  remembrance 
of  youth  is  a  sigh."  Such  is  the  inheritance  of  mor- 
tals, an  inheritance  so  miserable,  that  an  inspired 
writer  exclaims  at  the  thought  of  it,  "  wherefore  hast 
Thou  made  all  men  in  vain?" 

But  over  and  above  the  ordinary  sufferings  of 
mankind,  we  say  that  Christians  have  sufferings  of  a 
peculiar  kind.  Not  but  that  it  is  true,  that  the  life 
of  Christians  is  more  blessed  and  peaceful,  yea,  inex- 
pressibly more  peaceful,  than  that  of  worldlings. 
Still  it  remains  true,  that  Christians,  the  children 
of  God,  have  more  sufferings  than  those,  who  are  not 
living  for  the  world  to  come.  Did  not  the  Apostle 
Paul  say,  "that  if  in  this  life  only  we  have  hope  in 
Christ,  we  are  of  all  men  most  miserable?"  In  his 
case  you  will  allow  this  to  be  true;  but  it  is  true  in 
the  case  of  all  true  Christians.  A  true  believer  looks 
at  things  not  seen;  forgets  time;  lives  in  eternity; 


AND    HEAVENLY    GLORY.  259 

endures  as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible;  he  gives  up 
things  certain,  things  in  his  hand,  for  things  to 
carnal  eyes  uncertain  and  far  distant.  Now  think 
you  not,  that,  for  our  depraved  natures  and  carnal 
minds,  it  is  hard  to  do  these  things  ?  Is  it  not  easier 
to  gratify,  than  to  deny,  our  affections  and  lusts?  to 
gratify  them,  that  is  so  far  as  may  be  consistent  with 
health,  and  so  with  comfort.  But  "they  that  are 
Christ's  have  crucified  the  flesh  with  its  affections 
and  lusts."  Can  any  process,  which  is  described 
even  figuratively  as  crucifying^  be  pleasant  or  easy? 
Is  it  not  a  great  deal  pleasanter  to  the  natural  man  to 
heap  up  riches,  to  spend  them  upon  self,  to  gratify 
pride  and  vanity  with  ostentatious  display,  than  to  be- 
stow them  in  alms,  to  give  them  up,  to  avoid  rather 
than  seek  them  ?  Is  it  not  easier  to  the  self-willed,  to 
do  as  he  chooses,  than  to  give  up  his  will  to  God.  Is  it 
not  pleasanter  to  be  called  liberal,  amiable,  generous 
here ;  than  bigoted,  mean,  sour,  unmanly ;  terms 
often  bestowed  upon  those,  who  contend  earnestly  for 
the  Catholic  Faith ;  who  deny  themselves,  that  they 
may  have  to  give  to  the  Church  and  the  poor,  who 
come  out  of  the  world  in  obedience  to  Christ,  and 
who  moreover  are  more  afraid  of  the  anger  of  God, 
than  of  the  sneers  of  man  ?  You  must  admit  that  these 
things  are  so ;  that  those,  who  do  practice  the  sayings 
of  Christ  about  riches,  and  self-denial,  and  living  for 
eternity,  and  forsaking  all  things  for  his  sake,  do  have 
more  sufferings,  than  those  who  love  this  present 
world.  For  remember,  we  are  not  speaking  of  nomi- 
nal Christians;  of  those  whose  aim  is  to  please  them- 
selves as  far  as  they  can,  without  positively  displeas- 


260  EARTHLY    SUFFERING 

ing  God;  of  those  who  comply  with  God's  laws  when 
it  is  not  really  inconvenient  to  themselves :  but  of 
those,  who  have  put  all  in  God's  hands;  who  know 
no  will  but  His,  and  of  whom  it  may  truly  be  said, 
that  for  them  "to  live  is  Christ."  Such  an  one  was 
St.  Paul.  His  name,  his  ease,  his  comfort,  his  pros- 
pects of  respectability  and  riches,  he  gave  freely  up. 
He  might  have  settled  quietly  down  in  Tarsus,  and 
lived  like  many  Christians  now-a-daj^s.  But  he  had 
learned  a  nobler  lesson  under  the  Cross.  He  had 
learned  that  he  too  must  be  nailed  to  the  saving  tree : 
and  therefore,  through  life  was  he  crucified  with 
Christ.  Look  at  St.  Paul,  ye  who  think  that  a  true 
Christian's  is  an  easy  life ;  look  into  the  heart  of  any 
true  follower  of  Jesus,  and  see  the  bitter  struggles 
that  rend  it ;  see  its  frequent  desolation ;  the  anguish 
of  slaying  self,  of  trampling  down  natural  desires, 
of  giving  up  dear  hopes;  and  you  will  feel  that  it  is 
no  easy  thing  to  suffer  with  Christ. 

All  men  then  suffer.  The  children  of  God  and 
members  of  Christ  suffer  especially;  but  St.  Paul 
says,  "I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present 
time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
that  shall  be  revealed."  Let  us  illustrate  the  remark 
by  a  case  in  point.  The  young  man  who  came  to 
Christ,  having  great  possessions,  was  told,  *'  If  thou 
wilt  be  perfect,  go  and  sell  that  thou  hast,  and  give 
to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven." 
This  young  man  was  called  to  make  a  painful  self- 
sacrifice,  to  undergo  a  great  self-denial,  for  the  sake 
of  heaven;  to  venture  his  fortune,  in  order  to  gain  the 
glory  that  shall  be  revealed.     And  this  is  what  we 


AND    HEA.VENLY    GLORY.  261 

should  all  do — undergo  present  sufferings  and  losses 
for  the  sake  of  future  gain.  We  must  make  a  fair 
calculation  of  the  matter ;  on  the  one  side  set  down, 
self-denial,  the  loss  of  ease,  of  comfort,  of  luxury,  per- 
haps of  the  world's  good-will ;  and  on  the  other,  the 
eternal  weight  of  glory ;  and  then  ask  ourselves,  if  we 
will  make  the  overture;  if  we  will  embark  our  all 
in  a  voyage  to  the  haven  of  eternal  rest.  AVill  you 
say,  that  this  is  an  unreasonable  thing  to  do?  Why 
you  do  not  think  it  unreasonable  in  business  or  litera- 
ture, or  war.  Why  then  is  it  unreasonable  in  reli- 
gion ?  One  of  the  most  common  things  in  the  world,  is 
to  see  men  incurring  present  inconvenience,  giving  up 
much  present  good,  running  great  risks  of  loss,  through 
the  uncertain  hope  of  future  gain.  A  new^  scheme  of 
business  is  opened ;  a  man,  possessed  of  a  small  capital, 
invests  it  in  this  particular  branch  of  business,  hoping 
success  indeed,  but  still  uncertain  as  to  the  result. 
In  the  hope  of  gain,  he  prefers  rather  to  venture  his 
property,  and  to  give  up  the  present  enjoyment  of  it, 
than  to  have  the  comforts,  luxuries,  and  gratifications, 
which  it  might  afford  him  if  spent  at  once.  He 
reckons  that  the  present  deprivation  is  not  worthy 
to  be  compared  with  the  enjoyment,  which  he  shall 
have,  from  larger  possessions,  if  he  shall  be  success- 
ful. So  too  in  acquiring  knowledge.  The  scholar 
sacrifices  his  ease,  his  hours  of  rest  and  enjoyment, 
that  he  may  store  up  wisdom;  for  he  too  thinks  that 
the  power  and  pleasure,  which  sound  learning  will 
one  day  afford  him,  far  outweighs  inconvenience  and 
loss  of  comforts  for  the  time  being.  True,  he  may 
never  succeed ;  heBlth   may  break  down ;  and  long 


262  EARTHLY  SUFFERING 

before  the  wished  for  years  come  round,  which  were 
to  have  seen  him  renowned  and  honoured,  he  may 
be  dust  and  ashes  and  a  heap  of  dry  bones.  He 
knows  this;  but  he  is  willing  to  run  the  risk,  to  ven- 
ture his  time  and  his  health  for  the  rewards  that  he 
hopes  to  attain.  And  shall  men  be  thus  venturesome 
for  the  sake  of  earthly  things,  and  not  for  heavenly  ? 
Shall  the  man  of  business  give  up  the  pleasures  of 
youth,  and  the  delights  of  friendship  and  literature, 
and  sear  and  shrivel  up  his  heart  in  the  "close  and 
dusky  counting  house,"  and  toil  and  struggle  through 
his  three  score  years  and  ten,  that  forsooth  he  may 
have  a  softer  pillow  on  his  death-bed  than  his  fellows? 
And  will  not  man,  rational  man,  be  willing  to  endure 
the  sufferings  of  this  present  time,  for  the  hope  of 
the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed,  and  will  last  forever 
and  ever  ?  But  you  tell  me  that  Christianity  may  be 
a  delusion;  or  that  even  if  you  set  out,  you  may 
never  reach  heaven.  Be  it  so :  the  religion  of  Christ 
may  be  a  delusion ;  no  one  of  our  friends  and  neigh- 
bours, who  have  died  in  the  Lord,  ever  came  back  to 
tell  us  the  story  of  their  blessedness.  You  may  re- 
pent of  your  sins,  and  believe  in  Christ,  and  yet  fail 
to  come  to  the  continuing  city.  But  is  not  the  pro- 
bability that  the  religion  of  Christ  is  true,  or  that  you 
will  reach  heaven  if  you  make  the  attempt,  as  strong 
as  the  probability  that  you  will  greatly  increase  your 
fortune  if  you  embark  your  little  capital,  as  hundreds 
do,  in  untried  modes  of  business  ?  Oh !  you  will  run 
fearful  risks  for  time;  and  why  not  for  eternity?  If 
you  should  fail  in  your  business ;  if  you  should  find 
yourself  a  poor  man  at  threescore,  after  toiling  all 


AND  HEAVENLY  GLORY,  263 

your  days,  you  will  indeed  have  to  regret  the  sunny 
hours  of  youth,  and  the  sober  days  of  manhood,  un- 
redeemed for  wisdom  and  friendship  ;  but  you  will 
not  be  in  an  utterly  hopeless  case.  But  suppose  that 
you  make  no  venture  for  heaven  in  this  life,  and  find 
after  this  life,  that  heaven  and  hell  are  realities,  and 
that  hell  is  your  portion?  Oh  !  you  will  confess  one 
thing  in  the  agony  of  that  discovery,  that  all  the  suf- 
ferings, that  could  have  been  endured  on  earth,  are 
not  worthy  to  be  named  with  those  sufferings,  that 
know  neither  intermission,  alleviation,  or  end !  Be 
wise  then  here;  give  up  everything  for  and  to  God; 
take  Him  at  His  w^ord,  when  He  tells  you,  by  the 
mouth  of  St.  Paul,  that  "the  sufferings  of  this  present 
time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
which  shall  be  revealed."  For  that  glory  venture 
everything.  And  even  if  you  lose  all  by  the  ven- 
ture, (supposing  that  possible  if  you  come  to  Christ,) 
the  thought  that  you  have  tried,  will  make  eternal 
torments  more  tolerable. 

The  truth,  contained  in  the  text,  may  also  be  used 
for  the  purpose  of  testing  the  reality  of  our  faith,  and 
our  earnestness  in  religion.  Are  we  really  taking 
up  our  cross,  and  denying  ourselves  luxuries  and 
comforts,  for  the  sake  of  the  glory  that  shall  be  re- 
vealed ?  If  the  promise  of  glory  should  turn  out  to 
be  false,  should  we  be  really  losers  ?  Have  we  given 
up  anything  for  Christ's  sake,  which  we  should  not 
have  given  up,  if  Christ  had  not  come?  These  are 
serious  questions.  To  a  certain  extent,  every  sen- 
sible man,  for  the  sake  of  his  own  well-being,  comfort, 
and  respectability,  will  govern  his  appetites,  give 


264  EARTHLY  SUFFERING 

alms,  and  practice  good  will  towards  his  neighbours; 
and  we  may  do  all  these  things  without  the  love  God. 
See  to  it,  my  brethren,  what  are  you  enduring,  what 
are  you  suffering,  what  are  you  really  giving  up  for 
Christ's  sake.  You  perhaps  have  some  feelings 
about  your  justification,  which  may,  or  may  not,  be 
well  founded.  But  have  you  such  a  firm  faith  in 
the  word  of  God,  that  "the  sufferings  of  this  present 
time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
that  shall  be  revealed,"  that  for  the  sake  of  that  slorv 
you  are  undergoing  suffering  and  loss?  For  instance, 
like  St.  Barnabas,  would  you  give  up  a  large  and 
valuable  property  for  the  benefit  of  Christ's  poor?  If 
you  have  no  part  in  the  sufferings  of  this  present 
time,  you  must  fear  lest  you  have  no  part  in  the 
coming  glory.  There  never  yet  was  a  Christian 
finally  saved  without  a  cross;  if  you  bear  no  cross,  if 
you  live  in  ease  and  luxury,  if  you  know  nothing  of 
self-denial,  tremble,  for  you  are  not  Christ's! 

Lastly,  the  children  of  God  should  use  this  truth 
for  consolation.  They  have  to  endure  sufferings 
often,  which  could  not  be  borne  without  faith  in  that 
saying  of  God,  on  which  we  are  discoursing.  We 
speak  not  now  of  physical  or  earthly  sufferings 
alone;  the  sanctified  and  unsanctitied  Pagan  and 
Christian  have  cdike  borne  them  well.  But  we  speak 
of  the  pain  of  crucifying  the  whole  self;  of  putting 
to  death,  not  one  passion  or  appetite,  for  the  sake  of 
health,  or  respectability ;  Ijut  the  Jitsh  with  its  offec- 
tmis  and  lusts,  for  the  sake  of  God.  This  is  a  hard 
work  to  do;  and  often,  often,  in  the  course  of  the 
struggle,  the    poor    heart   aches  and   fails  for  fear. 


AND    HEAVENLY    GLORY.  265 

Pleasures  dazzle  us ;  pain  terrifies  us ;  the  world 
distracts  us;  and  we  sometimes  feel,  that  we  had 
better  give  up,  and  take  our  chance  for  futurity  with 
the  multitudes  that  forget  God.  In  such  times,  yea, 
at  all  times,  let  us  seek  grace  to  receive  heartily  the 
saying,  "  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not 
worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be 
revealed."  Yet  a  little  long-er,  and  these  sufferinirs 
will  be  over.  You  shall  sicken  and  lie  down  on  the 
bed  of  death ;  friends  shall  surround  you,  compan- 
ions in  misery  and  suffering;  but  your  eye  shall 
close  upon  them  and  open  in  glory  !  Ah  then — and 
not  till  then,  can  you  realize  the  fulness  of  the  mean- 
ing of  St.  Paul's  words.  But  each  must  realize  it 
for  himself  Shall  we  ever  know  from  experience 
that  an  hour  in  heaven  repays  the  pangs  of  years  ? 


34 


^ottitul  Utmuinn. 


'U 


Thou  art  gone  from  us,  my  brother — there  is  dust  upon  thy  brow, 
And  coldness  in  thy  kindly  heart,  which  ne'er  was  cold  till  now, 
And  sweet  and  undisturbed  thy  rest  beneath  the  sacred  stone, 
Where  pious  hands  thy  couch  have  spread,  and  thou  art  left  alone. 

Thou  art  taken  from  us  brother — all  thy  cares  and  labours  done. 
When,  to  our  short-reaching  vision,  they  had  seemed  but  just  begun  ; 
And,  long  before  its  noon  was  reached,  thy  heaven-enkindled  ray 
Was  lost,  as  stars  by  sunlight  fade,  in  endless,  cloudless  day. 

Thou  art  torn  from  us,  my  brother — and  our  hearts  are  bleeding  still, 
Yet,  taught  by  thee,  in  silence  bow  to  Heaven's  all  righteous  will; 
And  bless  the  grace  which  to  thy  life  such  heavenly  radiance  gave, 
To  cheer  us  while  on  earth  we  walk,  and  light  us  through  the  grave. 

Thou  art  gone  before  us,  brother— yet  we  have  no  tears  to  shed, 
.ti^  For  we  know  that  thou  art  numbered  with  the  blessed,  holy  dead  ; 
And,  in  that  "  continuing  city,"  to  which  we  may  fail  to  come. 
Hast  found,  through  faith  in  Christ  our  Lord,  a  welcome  and  a  home. 

G.  W.  D. 


POETICAL  REMAINS 


FiiKDEHicK  W.  Hoffman  was  a  resident  in  Baltimore,  Md.  In  tiie  spring 
of  1833,  he  joined  the  Junior  Class  (then  Sophomore)  of  Harvard  University  ; 
but  was  soon  obliged  to  relinquish  his  studies  on  account  of  ill  health.  He  left 
the  University,  and  by  the  advice  of  his  medical  attendants  sailed  for  Europe, 
in  the  expectation  that  a  sea  voyage  would  renovate  his  broken  constitution. 
But  such  was  not  God's  will.  He  died  at  Lyons,  France,  December  1833. 
The  character  of  Hoffman  was  an  uncommon  one.  Although  only  seventeen 
years  old  when  he  died,  he  was  a  communicant  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  a 
sincere,  devoted,  and  humble  follower  of  the  blessed  Jesus.  His  religion  was 
manifest  in  every  action  of  his  life,  and  cast  a  bright  colouring  over  every  thing 
which  he  did.  His  gentleness,  his  humility,  his  sweetness  of  disposition  won 
the  hearts  of  all,  and  all  admired  in  him  that  beauty  of  holinesss  which  was  ever 
conspicuous.  Possessing  talents  of  the  highest  order,  sanctified  by  the  Holt 
Spirit,  sincerely  and  ardently  attached  to  the  Episcopal  Church,  he  would 
most  probably,  had  his  life  been  spared,  have  been  called  to  minister  at  her  altars, 
where  his  usefulness  would  have  been  almost  boundless.  But  God  seclh  not 
as  man  seeth,  and  prematurely  for  all  but  himself  he  has  gone  home.  A  foreign 
tomb  has  closed  over  his  remains,  but  his  memory  will  long  live  fondly  em- 
balmed in  the  hearts  of  his  sorrowing  relatives  and  friends,  and  of  all  who  knew 
him.  Will  you  permit  a  friend  and  classmate  to  offer  the  following  tribute,  vain 
offering  though  it  be,  to  his  beloved  memory  ] 

To  F.  W.  H. 

Beloved  !  how  brief  thy  race  has  been, 

How  soon  thy  course  is  o'er, 
How  soon  thou'st  left  this  world  of  sin 

For  yon  celestial  shore. 
Away  from  thy  loved  home  so  blest, 

Thy  spirit  fled  to  God  ; 
And  thy  pale  form  is  laid  at  rest 

Beneath  a  foreign  sod. 

Together  we  have  often  stray'd 
Through  grove  and  flowery  dale, 


270  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

Together  we  have  knelt  and  pray'd 
Before  the  chancel's  rail. 

Ah  1  days  too  blest  I  forever  gone  ! 
How  swiftly  have  ye  flown  ! 

Thy  gentle  walk  on  earth  is  done. 
And  I  am  left  alone. 

Yet  not  alone,  for  One  is  near 

To  sooth  my  troubled  soul ; 
He  deigns  my  plaintive  moan  to  hear, 

He  hastens  to  console. 
And  pent  within  the  dreary  tomb, 

Thy  accents  will  not  stay, 
But  issue  from  its  gathering  gloom 

To  light  me  ou  my  way. 

Across  the  dark  Atlantic's  wave. 

By  angry  tempests  stirr'd, 
Thy  voice  from  out  thy  distant  grave 

In  gentlest  notes  is  heard. 
It  comes  to  cheer  me  as  I  weep, 

In  kind  consoling  strain  ; 
And  whispers  that  thou  dost  but  sleep, 

And  soon  will  wake  again. 

It  tells  me  of  a  brighter  shore, 

A  brighter  world  than  ours, 
Where  thorns  and  briars  lurk  no  more 

Amid  the  blooming  flowers. 
It  bids  me  to  my  Maker  turn 

Ere  yet  my  lamp  is  dim ; 
The  joys  of  this  poor  earth  to  spurn. 

And  cling  alone  to  Him. 

It  murmurs  thou  art  happy  now, 
It  bids  my  grief  be  still. 

And  tells  me  meekly  I  must  bow 
Before  our  Father's  will: 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  271 

Dear  friend,  farewell !  thou  'st  reach'd  thy  home, 

And  O  !  may  we  soon  meet, 
Where  sin  and  sorrow  never  come, 

At  our  dear  Saviour's  feet. 


TO  MY  DEAR  SISTER  CATHERINE, 

ON   THE    DAY    SHE    WAS    BAPTIZED  : 


AVITH  A   BIBLE. 


"Silver  and  gold  have  I  none;  but  such  as  I  have  give  I  thee. 

Farewell,  sweet  sisler,  from  thy  father's  home. 

And  the  dear  household  hearth,  thou  goest  forth. 

To  tread  alone  that  darkling  wilderness. 

That  scene  of  mingled  light  and  shade,  the  world. 

Yet  not  alone.     My  heart  goes  forth  with  thee, 

And  shares,  and  long  will  share,  thy  every  woe. 

And  with  its  love  perchance  will  cheer  thee  on, 

Amid  the  sorrows  which  beset  thy  path. 

Yet  not  alone.     For  God  goes  with  thee,  dear — 

That  friend  ivho  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother, 

To-day,  and  yesterday,  and  evermore, 

In  love  to  thee,  unchanging  and  unchanged  ; 

He  will  support  thee  by  his  tender  care. 

He  will  be  ever  constant  at  thy  side. 

To  dry  thy  tears,  to  sooth  thy  aching  heart ; 

For  when  on  earth,  in  nnortal  guise,  he  knew 

Of  all  the  bitterness  of  human  griefs. 

And  wept  o'er  human  sorrows  :  and  above. 

He  still  is  touched  with  our  infirmities. 

And  stoops  from  heaven,  to  comfort  and  console. 

Farewell,  dear  sister,  take  this  little  gift. 
This  frail  memorial  of  thy  brother's  love, 
I  have  no  gold  or  diamonds  to  bestow, 
I  have  no  pearls  to  deck  thy  shining  hair, 


272  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

Or  chains  to  hang  about  thy  snowy  neck: 

And  yet  I  bring  an  oftering  costlier  far 
Than  all  the  gold  from  Ophir's  shores  e'er  brought ; 
The  book  of  books — the  holy  word  of  God — 
Whose  every  page  is  radiant  with  truths, 
Which  ancient  sages  would  have  died  to  learn  ; 
Which  telis  of  a  world  ruined,  yet  so  loved 
That  Jesus  came  to  save  it  with  his  blood ; 
Which  whispers  peace  to  every  troubled  soul, 
And  bids  it  cast  its  hopes,  its  all  on  Heaven. 
For  my  sake  keep  it,  read  it  for  thine  own. 

Farewell,  dear  sister';  may  thy  Saviour  go 
Before  thy  steps  in  all  thy  journeyings, 
And  bring  thee  back  in  safety  to  thy  home : 
And,  when  at  last  the  final  summons  comes, 
Conduct  thee  to  his  fadeless  bowers  of  bliss, 
Where  partings  are  unknown,  and  sad  adieus, 
Words  never  uttered  by  angelic  lips. 


SIX  DAYS  IN  A  DISTRICT  SCHOOL. 

1. 

Experience  saith,  that  life  hath  much  of  sorrow 

Blended  with  bliss.    I  know  the  tale  is  true, 
And  from  my  heart's  secluded  griefs  could  borrow 

Unnumbered  proofs,  and  spread  them  to  the  view ; 
To-day's  false  dreams,  the  blighting  of  the  morrow 

Which  steals  from  hope  its  last  decaying  hue, 
AflTection  spurned,  the  loss  and  want  of  pelf, 
Are  ills,  which  all  have  fallen  on  myself. 

II. 
And  now — yet  nut  for  fame,  or  this  world's  glory, 

Those  meteors  dim,  those  momentary  tapers, 
I  will  unfold  a  brief  but  mournful  story, 

Worthy  to  be  recorded  in  the  papers, 


i 


35 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  273 

With  dire  mishaps,  pests,  mad  dogs,  murders  gory, 

Elections,  scandal,  mobocratic  capers  ; 
A  tale  more  meet  to  make  the  bosom  bleed. 
Than  e'en  the  woes  of  Saint  Rebecca  Reed. 

III. 
In  the  first  month  of  winter — old  December — 

Of  thirty-three — to  me  a  year  of  fates  ; 
No,  I  am  out — if  rightly  1  remember, 

('Tis  well  to  be  particular  in  dates) — 
'Twas  on  Thanksgiving  day,  in  sere  November, 

That  honoured  feast,  when  murder  foul  awaits 
The  barn-yard  host,  and  people  go  to  meeting, 
But  chiefly  show  their  gratitude  by  eating. 

IV. 

The  varied  bounties  of  the  dying  year. 

As  if  they  meant  to  keep  a  six  months'  fast, 

That  I  commenced  in  trembling  and  in  fear. 
To  tread  life's  stage — by  fickle  fortune  cast 

To  a  new  part — in  pedagogic  gear, 

(My  first  appearance,  and  I  trust  my  last) 

In ,  but  I  must  not,  dare  not,  name  the  town : 

The  mob  would  certainly  go  burn  it  down. 

V. 

The  town,  the  county,  state — no  matter  where — 
Nor  boots  it  much  that  dangerous  was  the  way, 

That  storms  around  me,  as  I  journeyed  there. 
In  fury  howled  to  wake  the  sleeping  spray. 

That  heavy  snow-clouds  fringed  the  upper  air. 
And  hid  from  sight  the  radiance  of  the  day  ; 

But  being  there,  the  Muse  will  deign  to  tell 

Of  all  the  sorrows  which  my  lot  befell. 

VI. 

Upon  the  side  of  an  o'ertowering  hill. 

Crowned  at  its  summit  by  a  birchen  wood, 

Laved  by  the  waters  of  a  tiny  rill, 

Which  there  commenced  its  journey  to  the  flood 

Of  mighty  ocean  ;  framed  with  little  skill, 


274  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

And  gray  with  years,  the  village  school  house  stood, 
Where  1  the  teacher's  duties  first  essayed, 
And  then  (Heaven  grant!)  for  ever  left  the  trade. 

vir. 
Alas  for  memory!  if  I  e'er  forget 

The  bitter  trials  of  that  opening  hour. 
Whose  phantom  horrors  hover  round  me  yet, 

When  I  assumed  the  village  teacher's  power; 
A  power  which  vanished  when  six  suns  had  set, 

As  frail  and  fragile  as  the  vernal  flower, 
Type  of  the  lordliest  monarch's  potent  sway 
Which  nourishes,  by  its  own  growth,  decay. 

VIII. 

My  throne,  my  empire,  and  my  subjects  all 
In  blended  visions  fill  the  mental  eye — 

Some  lengthy  pupils,  as  a  steeple  tall. 

Some  little  shavers,  hardly  two  feet  high — 

Sad,  noisy  urchins,  fated  to  appal 

My  timid  nerves,  and  patience  eke  to  try ; 

And  some  fair  maidens — messengers  of  light, 

My  only  consolations  and  delight. 

IX. 

All  these  I  taught;  the  young  in  childish  lore, 
To  say  their  letters,  spell,  and  read,  and  see 
The  pictured  wonders  which  the  primer  bore — ■ 

Deep  source  of  joy  to  lisping  infancy! 
The  old  I  bade  to  loftier  themes  to  soar. 

Or  scan  the  mazes  of  the  rule  of  three; 
And  once  I  set  a  copy,  made  a  pen. 
Tasks  which  1  never  had  to  do  again. 

X. 

These  too  I  governed;  but  a  kindlier  reign. 
Or  gentler  ruler  had  they  never  known ; 

The  urchins  sported  free  from  every  chain, 

Nor  dreading  that,  which  erst  in  moments  flown, 

Had  awed  their  hearts,  and  changed  the  merry  strain 
Of  happy  voices  into  sob  and  groan; 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  275 

And  so  'twas  whispered  that  my  temper  mild, 
Would  spare  the  rod,  and  truly  spoil  the  child. 

XI. 

This  may  be  true,  but  in  a  world  where  joy 

Is  but  a  shade  which  cometh  and  is  not ; 
I  ne'er — despite  all  proverbs — will  destroy 

The  little  meted  to  our  bitter  lot; 
Or  of  the  fleeting  pleasures  of  the  boy 

Which  soon  must  fade,  abate  a  single  jot; 
In  merry  humour  let  him  sport  to-day, 
Long  ere  the  morrow  all  must  flit  away. 

XII. 

The  people  of  the  town  of ,  stupid  blocks! 

In  anger  1  had  almost  told  the  name, 
Rated  at  me  as  lax  and  heterodox. 

And  all  unfit  man's  restless  soul  to  tame, 
Since  loth  to  load  its  fleshy  shell  with  knocks ; 

Then  heaped  a  brother  pedagogue  with  blame, 
Who  spurning  ferule,  birch,  or  leathern  thongs. 
Chastised  a  rebel  truant  with  the  tongs. 

XIII. 

Indignant  at  their  treatment,  I  resigned. 
And  to  my  pupils  sighed  a  parting  speech, 

By  art  well  fitted  to  convince  the  mind. 

Or  the  deep  chambers  of  the  heart  to  reach ; 

And  one  it  touched — a  little  maiden  kind, 
(That  little  maid  I  always  loved — to  teach) 

Started  and  pallid  grew  ihe  tale  to  hear. 

And  from  her  eyelid  brushed  away  a  tear. 

XIV. 

Dear  little  maid,  with  eye  of  heavenly  hue, 
That  parting  tear  my  memory  treasures  ye(, 

Which  gently  falling  like  a  drop  of  dew, 
The  dusty  paths  of  life's  bleak  road  to  wet : 

To  me  was  given  a  sign  of  sorrow  true, 
A  token  kind,  I  shall  not  soon  forget. 

That  and  some  pelf — vile  trash !  were  all  the  gams 

Proffered  to  soothe  my  sorrows  and  my  pains. 


276  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

XV. 

The  man  of  Uz  had  trials — but  I  doubt, 
If  e'er  a  school  Job's  gentle  temper  tried  ; 

Or  being  tried,  if  e'er  his  patience  stout, 
This  fell  assault,  this  tempest  could  abide ; 

Or  if  commencing  he  would  keep  one  out ; 
But  points  like  these  no  mortal  can  decide — 

Enough  to  know,  of  all  the  ills  accurst, 

That  haunt  poor  man — school  keeping  is  the  worst. 

XVI. 

"  To  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot," 
For  those  who  like  it,  most  delightful  task ! 

Theirs  be  the  labor  and  the  well  earned  fruit ! 
But  for  myself  a  diflerent  fate  I  ask ; 

Yea  I  would  rather  live  forever  mute, 
Do  direst  penance,  wear  the  Iron  Mask, 

Or  be  some  silly  monarch's  sillier  fool, 

Than  keep  six  days  another  district  school. 

XVII. 

'Tis  well  to  end  a  poem  with  a  saw 

Or  musty  proverb,  and  to  bend  the  case 

To  prove  and  illustrate  some  general  law, 
Or  mooted  point  in  clearer  light  to  place, 

Or  sage  conclusion  happily  to  draw, 
And  thus  the  previous  blemishes  erase; 

The  which  a  very  proper  rule  I  deem. 

And  thus  apply  it  to  my  present  theme. 

XVIII. 

All  power  is  transient ;  time's  destroying  wand 
Dissolves  the  mightiest  empires  into  dust ; 

Wrests  the  stern  sceptre  from  the  proudest  hand, 
And  dims  the  jewelled  coronet  with  rust, 

Sweeps  lordliest  cities  from  the  fairest  land. 
Showing  to  man  how  frail  all  mortal  trust ; 

The  monarch's  reign,  the  humblest  ruler's  sway. 

Alike  are  but  the  pageants  of  a  day. 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  277 

THE  LOVER  STUDENT. 

With  a  burning  brow  and  weary  limb, 

From  the  parting  glance  of  day, 
The  student  sits  in  his  study  dim, 

Till  the  east  with  dawn  is  gray; 
But  what  are  those  musty  tomes  to  him  ? 
^  His  spirit  is  far  away. 

He  seeks,  in  fancy,  the  halls  of  light 

Where  his  lady  leads  the  dance, 
Where  the  festal  bowers  are  gleaming  bright, 

Lit  up  by  her  sunny  glance; 
And  he  thinks  of  her  the  live-long  nio;ht — 

She  thinketh  of  him — perchance  ! 

Yet  many  a  gallant  knight  is  by. 

To  dwell  on  each  gushing  lone. 
To  drink  the  smile  of  that  love-lit  eye. 

Which  should  beam  on  him  alone; 
To  woo  with  the  vow,  the  glance,  and  sigh, 

The  heart  that  he  claims  his  own. 

The  student  bends  o'er  the  snowy  page. 

And  he  grasps  his  well-worn  pen, 
That  he  may  write  him  a  lesson  sage. 

To  read  to  the  sons  of  men ; 
But  softer  lessons  his  thoughts  engage, 

And  he  flings  it  down  again. 

The  student's  orisons  must  arise 

At  the  vesper's  solemn  peal, 
So  hegazeth  up  to  the  tranquil  skies 

Which  no  angel  forms  reveal, 
But  an  earthly  seraph's  laughing  eyes 

Mid  his  whispered  prayers  will  steal. 


278  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

In  vain  his  spirit  would  now  recur 

To  his  little  study  dim, 
In  vain  the  notes  of  the  vesper  stir 

In  the  cloister  cold  and  grim; 
Through  the  live-long  night  he  thinks  of  her- 

Doth  his  lady  think  of  him? 

Then  up  he  looks  to  the  clear  cold  moon, 
But  no  calm  to  him  she  brings  ; 

His  troubled  spirit  is  out  of  tune, 
And  loosened  it  countless  strings ; 

Yet  in  the  quiet  of  night's  still  noon 
To  his  Lady  love  he  sings  : 

'  Thou  in  thy  bower 

And  I  in  my  cell. 
Through  each  festal  hour 

Divided  must  dwell ; 
Yet  we're  united 

Though  forms  are  apart. 
Since  love's  vows  plighted 

Have  bound  us  in  heart. 

♦  Proud  sons  of  fashion 

Now  murmur  to  thee 
Accents  of  passion, 

All  treason  to  me ; 
Others  are  gazing 

On  that  glance  divine ; 
Others  are  praising — 

Are  their  words  like  mine  ? 

Heed  not  the  wooer 

With  soft  vows  exprest ; 

One  heart  beats  truer — 
Thou  know'st  in  whose  breast. 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  279 

To  him  thou  hast  spoken 

Words  not  lightly  told; 
His  heart  would  be  broken, 

If  thine  should  grow  cold  ! 

'  The  stars  faintly  glimmer 

And  fade  into  day, 
This  taper  burns  dimmer 

With  vanishing  ray  ; 
Oh  never  thus  fading, 

May  fortune  grow  pale 
With  sorrow-clouds'  shading, 

Or  plighted  faith  fail ! 

'  Hush  my  wild  numbers  ! 

Dawn  breaketh  above — 
Soft  be  thy  slumbers, 

Adieu  to  thee  love  ! 
Sad  vigils  keeping, 

I  think  upon  thee. 
And  dream  of  thee  sleeping 

My  own  Melanie  I ' 


THE  DYING  POET. 

With  gentle  motion,  swaying  to  and  fro, 
Dimly  revealing  half  the  scene  below. 
Through  the  night  watches  weary  vigil  keeping 
O'er  the  pale  form  beneath  his  faint  beams  sleeping, 
Flickering  and  flaring  in  the  night  air  damp 
Which  breathes  around,  an  antique  pendant  lamp 
With  sickly  lustre  gilds  the  shadowy  gloom. 
The  phantom  horrors  of  the  silent  room. 
Where,  calm  and  willing  as  a  little  flower 
Shutting  its  petals  at  the  twilight  hour. 


280  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

Soft  as  the  breeze  that  cools  the  summer  day, 
A  weary  spirit  breathes  itself  away. 

Approach  yon  couch,  and  gaze  upon  that  form 

Of  manly  beauty,  wrecked  by  many  a  storm 

Of  passion  wild.     The  chilly  midnight  air 

Plays  with  the  clusters  of  the  raven  hair 

That  shades  and  veils  his  lofty  brow  from  view, 

Contrasting  sadly  with  that  pallid  hue 

Which  fast  absorbs  the  fading  hectic  streak, 

By  Death's  cold  finger  stamp'd  upon  his  cheek. 

That  glorious  orb — that  soul-lit  eye  is  hid 

By  the  long  lashes  of  its  drooping  lid  : 

No  fearful  pangs  his  wasted  frame  convulse, 

But  throbbing  heart — the  wildly  fluttering  pulse, — 

The  sudden  heaving  of  the  quivering  breast, 

Like  ocean  waking  from  a  transient  rest,— 

The  half-drawn  sigh — the  quick  and  gasping  breath,- 

Proclaim  too  well  the  stealthy  work  of  death. 

He  wakes — his  cheek  assumes  a  sudden  flush 
Of  transient  life — he  speaks — and  like  the  gush 
Of  limpid  waters  as  they  gently  flow 
From  verdant  hills  to  greener  vales  below, 
And  sleeping  lakes  by  tempests  seldom  stirred, 
Breathes  on  his  lip — the  Poet's  dying  word. 

It  comes — the  hour  so  coveted  and  sought 

Through  all  the  changes  of  the  vanished  years. 

With  shame  and  glory — sorrow — pleasure  fraught. 
Illumed  by  smiles — or  dimmed  by  gushing  tears! 

And  shall  I  play  the  coward  now,  or  shrink 

From  the  dim  region's  brink  ? 

Why  should  I  shrink  ?     I  have  no  fear  of  change. 
Since  from  the  little  sphere  which  gave  me  birth 
In  world's  ideal  I  have  learned  to  range; 


H 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  281 

Or  if  at  times  I  sought  tiiis  lower  earth, 
'T  was  as  the  bird  by  weariness  oppressed, 
But  for  a  moment's  rest. 

The  world — the  world  of  guilty  men  I  loathed, — 

And  so  I  sought  another  to  create  ; 
There  my  soul's  thoughts  in  living  forms  were  clothed  ; 

Then  dreamed  myself  the  conqueror  of  fate  ; 
Vain  dream  !  these  menial  creatures  could  rebel. 
And  make  my  earth — a  hell. 

And  thither  earthly  phantoms  found  their  way, 

With  damned  thoughts  obscured  by  accents  sweet ; 

Of  immortality  much  muttered  they, 

And  proffered  fading  laurels  at  my  feet; 

And  then  I  bartered  soul  and  all — oh  shame  ! 

For  perishable  fame ! 

Giving  the  secrets  of  my  breast  to  others 

For  the  base  incense  of  the  vulgar  crowd, 
Whose  very  souls  might  hail  the  worms  as  brothers  : 

But  yet  with  such  idolatry  grew  proud, 
And  for  a  season  almost  dreamed  I  trod 
This  hated  earth — a  God  I 

I  too  became  Idolater  in  turn, 

And  bowed  my  heart  before  a  lovely  Ibrm 
Of  that  same  clay,  1  had  been  wont  to  spurn  ; 

Re-touched  the  mould  with  fancy's  colours  warm, 
Then  from  the  world  poetic  fire  I  stole, 
And  gave  the  form  a  soul. 

Investing  it  with  outward  beauty  rich. 

And  mental  loveliness,  and  all  things  fair — 

Ten  thousand  attributes  of  glory,  which 
Existed  but  in  fevered  thought — yet  there 

A  willing  slave,  my  inmost  soul  I  poured, 

And  my  own  work  adored. 
36 


282  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

And  how  repaid  this  exercise  of  art  ? 

'T  is  an  old  tale,  oft  told  upon  the  lyre  ; 
The  vulture  ever  eating  at  the  heart 

Which  still  endures,  unable  to  expire; 
The  chains  of  passion  that  forever  bind 
The  energies  of  the  mind  ! 

Such  am  I  left ;  my  heart  has  burned  to  dust 
With  the  fierce  flames,  which  flicker  to  go  out 

And  leave  it  lifeless;  'reft  of  every  trust, 

All  hope  extinct — all  faith  obscured  by  doubt; 

Without  a  tear  to  dew  my  burning  eye, 

I  have  but  now — to  die  ! 

Welcome  ye  terrors  which  my  soul  defies ! 

No  pangs  more  deep  than  those  which  rankle  here,- 
No  other  hell  has  bitterer  agonies 

Than  this  crushed  heart — oh  !  what  have  I  to  fear? 
Nought — nought — e'en  blest  with  life  of  endless  pain, 
So  not  these  woes  again  ! 

Back  to  its  source  the  life-tide  slowly  steals; 

How  now  my  Spirit  freezes  with  despair ! 
How  with  strange  images  this  sick  brain  reels  ! 

No  moment  left — the  season's  past  for  prayer — 
Yet  this  stern  agony  claims  one  request — 
Father — oblivion — rest  ! 

The  struggle's  o'er — that  heart  is  stilled  and  crushed, 

Those  fearful  tones  like  dying  winds  are  hushed  ; 

Heavy  with  death  the  drooping  eye-lids  close, 

And  the  pale  features  sink  to  stern  repose. 

Oh !  think  not  such  the  feverish  accents  wild 

By  fancy  forced  from  fiction's  imaged  child. 

For  thus  too  oft  the  sweetest  poesy  floats 

Upon  the  air  with  spirit-stirring  notes. 

From  harp  with  fibres  of  the  bosom  strung, 

\\  hose  music  by  fierce  agony  is  wrung. 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  283 

Whose  ever}'  chord  swept  o'er  by  hand  of  pain 
Vibrates  responsive  to  some  mournful  strain, 
In  the  dark  soul  strange  happiness  awakes, 
One  moment  quivers — and  forever  breaks! 
Yet — strange  delusion!  breathings  such  as  these 
Delight  the  soul,  and  craving  fancy  please, — 
And  we,  like  urchins  on  the  storm-white  shore, 
Who  smile  to  hear  the  breaker's  sullen  roar, 
Meanwhile  forgetting  that  the  angry  wave 
Drags  some  proud  vessel  to  an  ocean  grave, 
List  to  such  strains,  nor  deem  that  they  can  be 
The  echoes  sad  from  Passion^ s  troubled  sea. 
Whose  fearful  waves,  whose  wildly-dashing  surge 
Resound  lost  Hope's  or  Love's  expiring  dirge, — 
Whose  tide  sweeps  on  with  force  that  owns  no  check, 
And  bears  the  Heart  a  storm-worn,  shattered  wreck, 
Which  for  a  moment  crowns  the  billow's  crest, 
Then  with  wild  music  sinks  to  awful  rest. 


MISSIONARY  HYMN. 
Many  shall  run  to  and  fro,  and  knowledge  shall  be  increased. —  Daniel  xii.  4, 

Where  rolls  the  stormy  billow 

Along  the  troubled  deep, 
Where  verdant  prairies  pillov/ 

The  sun-beams  as  they  sleep. 
Where  hills  with  heaven  arc  blending, 

Where  spreads  the  dreary  waste. 
Where  torrents  are  descending, 

The  gospel  heralds  haste. 

Where  perfume-breathing  flowers 

Shed  fragrance  on  the  gales, 
That  sweep  through  rosy  bowers 

Of  sunny  Persia's  vales, 
Where  o'er  the  snow-clad  mounlains 


§84  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

Swells  China's  busy  hum, 
Where  flow  those  olden  fountains, 
The  gladsome  tidings  come. 

The  forest  dark  is  hushing 

The  murmur  of  the  blast, 
While  melodies  are  gushing 

Unknown  in  ages  past ; 
And  softly,  sweetly  stealing 

Upon  the  desert  air, 
The  Sabbath  bells  are  pealing 

To  wake  the  voice  of  prayer. 

Old  Grecian  temples  hoary 

Decayed  with  vanished  time, 
Shrines  famed  in  song  and  story 

Reverberate  that  chime; 
And  louder,  louder  swelling 

It  sweeps  o'er  Afric's  shore. 
With  gentle  music  quelling 

The  lion's  angry  roar. 

Lord !  in  thy  mercy  speeding, 

Thy  chosen  heralds  guide. 
That  they  in  triumph  leading 

Thy  people  scattered  wide. 
From  every  clime  and  nation 

May  gather  them  in  one, 
Till  earth  with  adoration 

Hails  the  eternal  Son — 

Till  in  each  mortal  dwelling, 

As  in  thy  realms  above. 
High  songs  of  praise  are  swelling 

To  hymn  redeeming  love  : 
Till  every  home's  an  altar, 

Where  holy  hearts  set  free 
In  service  never  falter. 

Unchanged  in  love  to  Thee. 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  285 

SONNET, 

SUGGESTED    BY    THE    EPITAPH    OF   THE    LAMENTED    LYDE. 

Here  sleeps  a  herald  of  the  Cross,  whose  voice 

In  hallowed  fanes  was  never  lifted  up. 
Whose  hands  ne'er  blessed  the  sacramental  cup, 

Nor  brake  the  bread,  the  faithful  to  rejoice ; 
And  yet  he  panted  with  an  holy  zeal 

To  cross  the  storm-white  wave,  and  fearless  show 
The  countless  worshippers  of  fabled  Fo, 

That  fount  whose  waters  all  pollution  heal. 
With  living  faith  and  Apostolic  love. 

The  youthful  warrior  had  prepared  to  roam. 
When  the  sad  mandate  issued  from  above, 

To  stay  his  steps,  and  call  him  to  his  home : 
Mourner,  weep  not !  our  Father's  will  be  done  ! 

He  hath  some  other  work  to  give  his  son. 


THOUGHTS  FOR  THE  CITY. 

Out  on  the  city's  hum  ! 
My  spirit  would  flee  from  the  haunts  of  men, 
To  where  the  woodland  and  leafy  glen 

Are  eloquently  dumb. 

These  dull  brick  walls  which  span 
My  daily  walks,  and  which  shut  me  in  ; 
These  crowded  streets,  with  their  busy  din — 

They  tell  too  much  of  man. 

O!  for  those  dear  wild  flowers. 
Which  in  the  meadows  so  brightly  grew. 
Where  the  honey-bee,  and  blithe  bird  flew 

That  gladden'd  boyhood's  hours. 


286  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

Out  on  these  chains  of  flesh ! 
Binding  the  pilgrim,  who  fain  would  roam, 
To  where  kind  nature  hath  made  her  home, 

In  bovvers  so  green  and  fresh. 

But  is  not  nature  here? 
From  these  troubled  scenes  look  up  and  view 
The  orb  of  day,  through  the  firmament  blue, 

Pursue  his  bright  career. 

Or,  when  the  night-dews  fall, 
Go  watch  the  moon,  with  her  gentle  glance 
Flitting  over  that  clear  expanse — 

Her  own  broad  star-lit  hall. 

Mortal  the  earth  may  mar, 
And  blot  out  its  beauties  one  by  one  ; 
But  he  cannot  dim  the  fadeless  sun. 

Or  quench  a  single  star. 

And  o'er  the  dusky  town, 
The  greater  light  that  ruleth  the  day. 
And  the  heav'nly  host,  in  their  bright  array 

Look  gloriously  down. 

So  mid  the  hollow  mirth, 
The  din  and  strife  of  the  crowded  mart  ; 
We  may  ever  lift  up  the  eye  and  heart 

To  scenes  above  the  earth. 

Blest  thought,  so  kindly  given  ! 
That  though  he  toils  with  his  boasted  might, 
Man  cannot  shut  from  his  brother'' s  sight 

The  things  and  thoughts  oj  Heaven! 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  287 


THE  CROSS. 

"  When  we  rise,  the  Cross;  when  we  lie  down,  the  Cross;  in  our  thoughts, 
the  Cross;  in  our  studies,  the  Cross;  every  where  and  at  every  time,  the  Cross, 
— shining  more  glorious  than  the  sun. —  St.  Clirysostom. 

The  Cross,  the  Cross !  Oh,  bid  it  rise 

Mid  clouds  about  it  curled, 
In  bold  relief  against  the  skies. 

Beheld  by  all  the  world ; 
A  sign  to  myriads  far  and  wide. 

On  every  holy  fane, 
Meet  emblem  of  the  Crucified 

For  our  transgressions  slain. 

The  Cross,  the  Cross  I  with  solemn  vow 

And  fervent  prayer  to  bless, 
Upon  the  new  born  infant's  brow 

The  hallowed  seal  impress; 
A  token^  that  in  coming  years, 

All  else  esteem'd  but  loss. 
He  will  press  on  through  foes  and  fears, 

The  soldier  of  the  Cross. 

The  Cross,  the  Cross  1  upon  the  heart 

Oh  !  seal  the  signet  well, 
An  amulet  against  each  art 

And  stratagem  of  hell  ; 
A  hope,  when  other  hopes  shall  cease, 

And  worth  all  hopes  beside, — 
The  Christian's  blessedness  and  peace. 

His  joy  and  only  pride. ^ 


•  See  Baptismal  ofEce. 

2  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  Cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
—St.  Paul. 


288  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

The  Cross !  the  Cross  !  ye  heralds  blest 

Who  in  the  saving  name, 
Go  forth  to  lands  with  sin  opprest, 

The  Cross  of  Christ  proclaim  ! 
And  so,  mid  idols  lifted  high, 

In  truth  and  love  reveal'd. 
It  may  be  seen  by  every  eye, 

And  stricken  souls  be  heal'd.* 

The  Cross  !  dear  Church,  the  world  is  dark, 

And  wrapt  in  shades  of  night, — 
Yet,  lift  but  up  within  thy  ark 

This  source  of  living  light, 
This  emblem  of  our  heavenly  birth 

And  claim  to  things  divine, — 
So  thou  shalt  go  through  all  the  earth, 

And  conquer  in  this  sign.^ 


THE  CHURCH. 
"  To  whom  should  we  go?     Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." 

Mother  !  I  am  sometimes  told 

By  the  wanderers  in  the  dark, 
Fleeing  from  thine  ancient  fold, 

I  must  seek  some  newer  ark. 
Thou  art  worn,  they  say,  with  years, 

Quench'd  the  lustre  of  thine  eye. 
Whence  no  blessed  beam  appears 

Bright  with  radiance  from  on  hisfh. 


1  As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the  wilderness,  even  so  must  the  Son  of 
Man  be  lifted  up,  that  whosoever  beUeveth  in  him  shall  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life. — Jesiis  Christ. 

2  In  hoc  signo  vincis.  The  inscription  on  the  Cross  which  appeared  to 
Constantino. 


37 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  289 

Mollier  !   then  1  humbly  say 

To  the  blinded  sons  of  strife. 
Whither  shall  I  go  away  '? 

She  hath  precious  words  of  life. 
She  hath  watched  with  tender  care, 

Led  me  through  life's  thorny  ways, 
Taught  me  many  a  hallowed  prayer, 

Many  a  fervent  hymn  of  praise. 

Weeping  by  the  blood-stain'd  Cross, 

She  hath  whisper'd  at  my  side, 
Son  !  count  ev'ry  thing  but  dross, 

So  thou  win  the  Lamb  who  died ! 
She  will  guide  me  o'er  the  wave, 

Pointing  to  the  rich  reward ; 
Then  at  last  beyond  the  grave, 

Give  me,  faithful,  to  her  Lord. 

Mother  !  can  I  ever  turn 

From  thy  home,  thy  peaceful  ark, 
Where  the  lights  celestial  burn, 

When  all  else  beside  is  dark? 
Rather,  those  who  turn  away 

Let  me  seek  with  love  to  win, 
Till  Christ's  scatter'd  sheep  astray 

To  thy  fold  are  gather'd  in. 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES. 

"No  man  knoweth  of  his  sepulchre  unto  this  day. 

He  gazed  o'er  all  the  scenes  below, 
The  mount  on  which  he  stood, 

Where  rivers  in  their  silv'ry  flow 
Hied  on  to  ocean's  flood  ; 

Where  harvests  waved  o'er  many  a  field, 

That  glitter'd  like  a  warrior's  shield 


290  POETICAL    REMAINS. 

Of  richly  burnished  gold; 
Where  summer  zephyrs  softly  swept 
Through  woods  with  verdure  deck'd,  and  wepi 

That  he  might  but  behold. 

But  when  he  thought  how  greenly  there 

His  people's  homes  would  stand, 
How  soon  the  melody  of  prayer 

Would  swell  from  all  the  land  ; 
What  myriads  yet  to  be  would  breathe 
The  perfumed  air,  reclined  beneath 

The  vines  their  hands  did  rear — 
A  smile,  like  some  lone  star-beam  blest. 
That  quivers  on  a  wave's  white  crest, 

Illumed  the  prophet's  tear. 

He  died — unbent  his  noble  form, 

Unquench'd  his  glorious  eye. 
Though  many  a  vanish'd  winter's  storni 

Had  coldly  swept  him  by  ; 
No  fell  disease,  whose  venom'd  sting 
Hath  poison'd  oft  life's  purest  spring. 

Had  made  that  form  its  prey  ; 
So  when  at  last  death's  angel  came. 
Sternly  from  out  an  iron  frame 

The  life  was  wrung  away. 

He  slept — a  chosen  few  convey 'd. 

Restoring  earth  her  trust, 
His  ashes  to  a  verdant  glade, 

And  left  them — dust  to  dust. 
No  pilgrims  came  in  after-years 
With  sorrowing  hearts  and  gushing  tears; 

No  storied  tomb  or  stone 
To  other  ages  marks  the  spot: 
His  sepulchre,  by  man  forgot, 

To  God  is  only  known. 


POETICAL    REMAINS.  291 

Oh  !  thus — upon  my  sight  expand, 

When  life's  brief  space  is  fill'd, 
Some  glimpses  of  the  promised  land 

Death's  darkling  paths  to  gild; 
Some  hopes,  if  I  alas!  must  grieve 
The  world  in  darkness  veil'd  to  leave, 

That  soon  that  moon  will  shine, 
When  all  the  tribes  of  earth  shall  haste, 
Pale  pilgrims  o'er  this  dreary  waste, 

To  seek  the  realms  divine. 

Thus,  too,  when  the  last  sands  depart, 

And  through  its  wonted  track 
The  life-tide  to  the  quivering  heart 

Is  coldly  hurrying  back. 
The  mental  eye  unquench'd  nor  dim, 
The  soul  unbowed — unsear'd — like  him 

May  I  return  to  rest : 
And  if,  where  waving  tree-tops  close, 
Loved  hands  may  yield  me  to  repose, 

I  shall  be  doubly  blest. 

And  what  if  cold  oblivion's  shade 

Around  my  tomb  must  fall, 
And  none,  as  generations  fade. 

My  memory  e'er  recall  ? 
That  slumber  will  not  be  less  sweet 
Because  no  lips  my  name  repeat; 

For  oh !  what  were  it  worth 
To  be  remember'd  e'en  a  day 
When  all  we  loved  have  passed  away, 

And  perish'd  from  the  earth. 


292  POETICAL    REMAINS. 


A    WARM  SUNNY  DAY  IN  WINTER. 

So  bright,  so  beautiful  the  day 

So  sunny  and  serene, 
I  almost  think  the  month  of  May 

Has  stolen  in  unseen; 
And  hoary  winter  flies  the  while 

Across  the  stormy  wave, 
To  lose  the  lustre  of  her  smile 

In  some  dark  northern  cave. 

The  gurgling  rivulets  gaily  run, 

Freed  from  their  icy  chain, 
As  if  they  deern'd  the  summer  sun 

Shone  on  the  earth  again  ; 
And  swiftly  from  each  hill  and  dale, 

Where'er  is  gently  felt 
The  warm  breath  of  the  southern  gale, 

The  snowy  mantles  melt. 

Such  sunny  days  in  northern  climes. 

Where  reigns  the  winter  drear, 
Gleam  brightly  through  the  storms  at  times, 

The  weary  heart  to  cheer  ; 
And  many  a  soothing  hope  they  bring, 

And  many  a  tale  they  breathe, 
Of  all  the  coming  joys,  when  spring 

Her  leafy  crowns  shall  wreathe. 

Thus  sometimes  to  the  Christian's  soul, 

E'en  in  a  world  like  this, 
Where  clouds  of  sin  and  sorrow  roll, 

A  foretaste  of  the  bliss 
Reserved  for  all  the  saints  of  heaven 

In  realms  of  endless  day, 
Is  kindly  for  a  moment  given 

To  cheer  him  on  his  way. 


POETICAL    REMAINS.  293 

LOVE  THEE  TOO  WELL. 

Composed  on  being  warned  not  to  love  the  Church  too  well. 
(a  fact.) 

Love  thee  too  well,  dear  mother  Church  ! 

And  can  it  ever  be? 
Love  thee  too  well,  my  Saviour's  bride, 
For  whom  he  stoop'd  to  earth,  and  died 

In  mortal  agony  ? 

Love  thee  too  well,  who,  when  these  feet 

Life's  early  pathways  trod, 
Hover'dst  about  my  cradle  bed. 
And  onward  thence  my  soul  hast  led. 

To  seek  the  peace  of  Goo  ! 

Love  thee  too  well !  it  could  not  be  : 

For  can  1  e'er  repay. 
The  love  which  in  thy  bosom  glow'd, 
And  blessings  day  by  day  bestow'd. 

To  light  me  on  my  way  ? 

At  yonder  consecrated  fount 

That  love  was  first  reveal'd  ; 
There  shelter'd  in  thy  tender  arms, 
My  brow  was  laved  with  holy  charms — 

With  Heaven's  own  signet  seal'd. 

Nor  ended  then  thy  watchful  care, 

But  still  thou  led'st  me  on. 
And  bad'st  me  at  the  chancel  bow, 
And  kneeling  there,  myself  avow 

God's  steadfast  champion. 

And  ever  as  the  season  comes, 
My  steps  still  there  are  led, 


294  POETICAL    REMAINS. 

Where  thou,  with  all  a  mother's  care, 
Dost  for  thy  children's  wants  prepare 
The  heaven-descended  bread. 

Thou  early  taught'st  my  infant  lips 
Thy  strains  of  prayer  and  praise; 
And  rais'dst  my  heart  from  earthly  toys, 
To  look  for  higher,  holier  joys. 
By  thy  celestial  lays. 

And  as  the  rolling  year  glides  on. 

With  thee  I  duly  hie. 
To  see  my  Lord  at  Bethlehem, 
Or  crown'd  with  thorny  diadem, 

On  gloomy  Calvary  ; 

Or  view  him  in  the  garden  tomb, 

Secured  by  seal  and  stone ; 
Or  mark  him  rend  death's  icy  chain, 
And  rising  upward,  mount  again 
His  everlasting  throne. 

Untaught  by  thy  maternal  love, 

Where  would  this  soul  have  been? 
O'er  schism's  troubled  billows  tost. 
Or  'chance,  alas !  for  ever  lost 
In  the  dark  gulf  of  sin. 

Then,  can  I  love  thee  e'er  too  well. 

Who  so  hast  loved  me  ? 
No  !  let  the  moments  of  my  life 
With  deep  affection  all  be  rife, 

And  tender  love  to  thee. 

Let  all  my  powers,  though  weak  and  frail, 

Be  ever  wholly  thine  ; 
Since  not  a  gift  which  man  can  bring, 
Would  be  too  rich  an  offering. 

To  proffer  at  thy  shrine. 


POETICAL    REMAINS.  295 

Keep  me,  O  keep  me,  mother,  then, 

With  thy  unchanging  love  : 
And  when  earth's  final  hour  has  come, 
Conduct  me  to  thy  Master's  home. 

In  brighter  worlds  above. 


THE  DEATH  AT  SEA. 

"  At  length  a  delirium  came  on,  in  which  the  moving  shadows  cast  by  the 
hanging  lamp,  as  it  swung  with  the  heaving  of  the  sea,  were  taken  and  greeted 
for  his  distant  friends." — ProJ.  Palfrey  s  Sermon  on  the  death  of  W.  Chap- 
man. 

Upon  his  sea-tost  couch  the  sleeper  lay. 
From  home  and  friends  and  all  so  dear  away; 
No  mother  hovered  o'er  that  dying  bed 
To  cheer  his  heart,  or  soothe  his  aching  head  ; 
No  kindred  there,  no  fondly  loved  ones  nigh. 
To  catch  the  parting  breath,  or  close  the  eye. 
No  kindly  accents  words  of  comfort  tell. 
Or  murmur  out  that  bitter  word — farewell  ; 
Save  where  around  his  couch  the  seamen  stood, 
Their  furrowed  cheeks  with  manly  tears  bedewed, 
And  marked,  with  quivering  lip  and  streaming  eye. 
That  fair  young  flower  fade  away  and  die. 

Not  his,  as  once  so  fondly  he  had  hoped. 
When  first  life's  prospects  to  his  vision  oped  ; 
Not  his  to  leave  the  cherished  household  hearth 
To  wander  on  in  learning's  verdant  path  ; 
Not  his,  with  bounding  spirits,  hand  in  hand. 
To  mingle  gaily  with  that  favored  band. 
Who  love  the  Muse's  temples  to  explore. 
And  tread  the  varied  haunts  of  classic  lore. 
Another  pathway  for  his  steps  was  given, 
A  sterner  destiny  marked  out  by  Heaven. 
'T  was  his  to  learn  the  blight  of  slow  decay. 
To  mark  the  sands  ebb  silently  away  ; 


296  POETICAL    REMAINS. 

To  see  life's  loveliest  flowers  sweetly  bloom 

Only  to  wither  in  an  early  tomb. 

'T  was  his  to  view  his  prospects  all  displayed 

In  cloudless  beauty — then  to  mark  them  fade  ; 

'T  was  his  to  taste  of  pleasures  unalloyed, 

And  as  he  tasted,  see  them  all  destroyed ; 

'T  was  his,  in  foreign  scenes  and  climes  to  roam, 

To  meet  that  dreaded  fate — to  die  from  home ; 

'T  was  his  to  seek  the  far  off  ocean  wave 

In  search  of  health — and  there  to  find  a  grave. 

And  there  he  lay,  from  all  so  dear  apart. 

While  the  life  current  rallied  to  the  heart ; 

The  pulse  grew  fainter  and  the  eye  more  dim, 

As  the  death  hour  stole  slowly  over  him. 

From  the  low  cabin  wall  a  lantern  hung, 

Which  to  and  fro  with  ceaseless  motion  swung, 

As  ever  rolled  the  ocean's  weary  swell, 

And  its  dark  shadows  o'er  the  dying  fell. 

Anon  he  started  from  his  troubled  rest, 

And  woke  to  think  that  he  was  truly  blest. 

He  dreamed  himself  (oh  happy  dream)  once  more 

In  his  loved  home,  upon  his  native  shore : 

He  dreamed  his  distant  friends  assembled  near, 

His  parting  words  and  fond  adieus  to  hear; 

And  that  his  own  dear  pastor,  then  away 

Far  o'er  the  sea,  knelt  at  his  side  to  pray. 

For  those  dark  shades  his  dying  sight  deceived, 

And  his  pale  lips  these  heartfelt  accents  breathed  — 

"  Oh !  mother,  dearest  mother,  is  it  thou 
Who  watchest  anxiously  about  my  bed. 
Whose  gentle  hand  so  soothes  my  burning  brow, 
Whose  tender  arm  supports  this  throbbing  head? 
Oh  !  it  is  sweet  in  this  dark  hour  of  fear, 
Those  thrilling  tones  to  hear. 

"  And  ye  are  there,  brothers  and  sisters  loved, 
Gathered  in  sorrow  at  this  scene  of  woe  ; 


POETICAL    REMAINS.  297 

Thus  far  through  earth  together  we  have  roved, 
But  lo  the  hour  has  come  that  I  must  go  ; 
Yet  e'en  in  death,  't  is  bliss  to  hear  ye  tell 
That  last,  short,  fond  farewell. 

"  And  thou  dear  pastor  of  my  childhood's  day, 
Thou,  who  since  first  life's  wilderness  I  trod, 
Hast  led  me  on  through  wisdom's  pleasant  way, 
To  seek  the  path  that  leadelh  home  to  God. 
Thou  with  thy  words  of  blessedness  art  by. 
To  teach  me  how  to  die. 

"  Cold  grows  this  heart,  my  mother,  and  life's  tide 
From  its  blue  veins  and  channels  ebbeth  fast ; 
But  thou  art  keeping  vigil  at  my  side  ; 
And  all  the  bitterness  of  death  is  past. 
It  robs  his  sting  of  half  its  agony 
To  fall  asleep  by  thee. 

"I  deemed  myself  upon  the  ocean  wave. 

Thank  God  !  't  was  biit  a  dream  ;  and  I  am  blest 

In  my  own  native  land  to  find  a  grave, 

And  'mid  my  kindred  thus  to  sink  to  rest. 

I  thank  Thee,  Father,  since  this  hour  must  come, 

That  I  may  die  at  home." 

So  passed  his  pure  and  gentle  soul  away, 

To  leave  that  pallid  form  a  heap  of  clay  ; 

So  the  young  dreamer  slept  his  last  long  sleep, 

While  ai  his  accents  wild  the  seamen  weep. 

Oh,  if  in  dim  futurity  a  fate 

As  sad  as  his  my  wayworn  feet  await; 

If  strangers  stand  about  my  bed  of  death 

To  close  my  eyes  and  catch  my  parting  breath ; 

If  loved  ones  may  not  hear  my  dying  call. 

And  strangers'  hands  must  sooth  my  sable  pall ; 

And  if  by  heaven  decreed,  it  cannot  be 
38 


298  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

That  I  may  know  the  sweet  reality  ; 

Still  may  such  visions  cheer  that  parting  hour, 

Like  angel  visitors  from  starry  bower ; 

Still  may  I  fancy  friendly  tones  I  hear, 

And  friendly  faces  at  my  side  appear; 

Still  may  the  fond  delusion  o'er  me  come, 

Like  him,  at  least  to  dream  1  die  at  home. 


THE  HUMMING  BIRD  AND  THE  ARTIFICIAL  FLOWERS. 

The  fact  related  in  these  lines  occurred  in  a  southern  city  a  few  months  since. 
The  humming  bird  left  his  nest  at  dawn, 
And  hied  him  out  in  the  early  morn, 
To  sip  the  dews  from  each  perfumed  flower 
Which  opes  its  leaves  at  the  sunrise  hour, 
O'er  waving  woodlands  and  verdant  dales. 
O'er  fields  where  murmur  the  fragrant  gales, 
From  his  own  dear  garden-home  away, 
He  merrily  flew  the  live  long  day. 

And  just  at  twilight  he  deem'd  it  best 

To  hie  again  to  his  little  nest ; 

And  as  o'er  his  home  he  hover'd  nigh, 

A  garland  of  roses  caught  his  eye, 

Not  slumbering  soft  on  a  mossy  bed, 

But  twining  around  a  lady's  head. 

From  his  homeward  course  he  bent  him  down 

To  sip  the  sweets  of  that  rosy  crown, 

But  vainly  stoop'd  from  his  upward  flight — 

Those  flowers  were  only  fair  to  the  sight ; 

Of  nature's  treasures  they  form'd  no  part, 

But  owed  their  beauty  and  bloom  to  art. 

He  tasted  but  once,  and  tried  no  more. 

Then  back  toward  heaven  began  to  soar, 

And  with  light  pinions  for  ever  flew 

From  buds  which  never  bad  tasted  dew. 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  299 

Oil  !  Christian  pilgrim,  metliinks  I  see 
A  lesson  recorded  here  for  thee; 
Like  that  little  bird  with  restless  wing, 
Toward  thy  home  thou  art  journeying; 
Like  him  some  bauble  meets  thy  eye, 
Thou  bendest  down  from  thy  path  on  high, 
And  deign'st  to  grovel  awhile  on  earth, 
Pursuing  some  object  nothing  worth, 
Exchanging  blindly  celestial  joys 
For  empty  pleasures  and  gilded  toys. 
The  feather'd  rambler,  when  once  deceived. 
Delusions  never  again  believed  ; 
But  finding  those  roses  false  as  fair, 
Flew  hastily  back  to  upper  air. 
Nor  paused  a  moment  till  he  had  come 
Safe  back  to  his  happy  garden-home. 
So,  Christian,  whenever  thou  dost  stray 
From  the  Gospel's  straight  and  narrow  way. 
Beguiled,  alas  !  by  those  painted  flowers, 
The  pleasures  of  this  poor  world  of  ours  ; 
And  when  thou  findest,  though  fair  to  view. 
And  glowing  with  many  a  brilliant  hue. 
That  they  are  worthless,  fleeting,  and  vain. 
Then  never  seek  such  baubles  again; 
Then  never  more  from  that  verdant  road, 
With  garlands  and  flowers  celestial  strow'd, 
To  stoop  to  the  things  of  earth  be  driven, 
But  wing  on  thy  upward  course  to  heaven; 
Nor  pause,  nor  stoop  from  thy  joyous  flight, 
Till  thou  hast  entered  those  realms  of  light. 
Where  airs  of  paradise  sweetly  breathe, 
And  painted  roses  no  more  deceive. 
Nor  gilded  pleasures  avert  the  eye 
From  gazing  upward  to  joys  on  high. 
For  faithful  pilgrims  laid  up  in  store. 
When  the  weary  journey  of  life  is  o'er. 


300 


POETICAL  REMAINS. 


THE  TEST  OF  LOVE. 

(to  the  chuech.) 

"  Lovest  thou  me  I  Feed  my  sheep." 

Church  !  lovest  thou  thy  Lord  ? 

Then  seek  his  straying  sheep, 
Then  gatlier  from  thy  richest  hoard; 

And  rouse  thee  from  thy  sleep  ; 
Nor  rest  till  from  this  world  of  sin 
The  wanderers  all  are  gathered  in — - 

To  his  one  fold  restored. 

On  prairies  of  the  West, 

Where  sounds  no  note  of  prayer, 
Where  rise  no  hallow'd  arks  of  rest — 

His  scatter'd  lambs  are  there  ! 
Send  pastors  to  that  distant  land 
To  feed  his  flock  with  tender  hand, 

With  ever-watchful  care. 

The  red  man  claims  thy  aid 

In  forests  dark  and  dim. 
Where  all  his  earthly  prospects  fade; 

Yet  Jesus  died  for  him  ! 
And  Jesus  bids  thee  seek  and  feed 
The  lambs  for  whom  he  deign'd  to  bleed. 

In  mortal  guise  array'd. 


Far  o'er  the  booming  sea 
A  suppliant  voice  is  heard; 

The  Ethiop  waves  his  hand  to  thee, 
And  breathes  one  stirring  word, 

'  My  land  is  dark  with  mental  night. 

But  thou  art  cheer'd  by  fadeless  light ; 
Oh  !  bid  it  shine  for  me!' 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  301 

From  Grecia's  land  divine, 

From  classic  grove  and  hill, 
A  cry  sweeps  o'er  the  foaming  brine — 

'  We  seek  for  wisdom  still !' 
Then  light  that  heavenly  flame  once  more, 
Which  dimly  burn'd  in  days  of  yore, 

In  every  holy  shrine. 

Amid  the  fanes  of  Fo, 

That  soil  by  myriads  trod, 
Some  pant  with  fervent  zeal  to  know, 

The  true  and  living  God. 
Christ's  sheep  are  there,  and  would  rejoice 
To  hear  the  gentle  shepherd's  voice 

Resounding  in  their  wo. 


Oh,  Church,  awake!  nor  say 
Thou  lov'st  thy  Lord  in  vain, 

But  prove  thy  love,  and  watch  and  pray, 
His  blood-bought  lambs  to  gain. 

Thy  banner  on  the  field  unfurl'd, 

Erect  in  faith!  that  field— the  world. 
His  lambs — all  those  astray. 


THE  NOBLE  ARMY  OF  MARTYRS. 

(For  All  Saints'  Day.) 

We  sit  beneath  the  spreading  vine 

In  some  sequester'd  glade, 
And  where  its  verdant  tendrils  twine 

Enjoy  refreshing  shade  ; 
Or  pluck,  to  quench  thirst's  burning  pang. 

Amid  their  bowers  of  green, 
The  clust'ring  grapes  which  richly  hang. 

Half  hid  by  leafy  screen : 


302  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

Yet  think  not  how,  in  shadeless  field. 

The  weary  hinds  must  toil, 
Before  the  plant  its  gifts  may  yield, 

Or  shade,  or  purple  spoil : 
How  day  by  day,  with  careful  hand, 

They  train  each  tender  shoot. 
Before  the  vernal  leaves  expand, 

Or  ripens  autumn's  fruit. 

And  thus  we  rest  in  peace  beneath 

The  ever-blooming  tree, 
Whose  leaves  with  fadeless  blossoms  wreathe, 

The  nations'  balm  to  be; 
Forgetting  how  the  seed  at  first 

Was  sown  in  barren  clod ; 
How  wearily  that  gem  was  nursed, 

Whence  sprang  the  Church  of  God. 

How  grew  the  Church  of  God?  it  grew 

Not  as  a  summer  flower. 
But  martyrs'  blood,  like  morning  dew. 

Was  its  reviving  shower; 
And  round  it  ever  gush'd  and  pour'd 

A  verdure-yielding  tide; 
Thai  stream,  the  life-blood  of  its  Lord, 

Warm  from  his  wounded  side. 

Can  we  forget  the  glorious  band, 

Who,  mid  those  days  of  strife, 
Nurtured  the  plant  with  tender  hand, 

And  warm'd  it  into  life? 
Should  we  forget,  yet  deem  not  then 

Their  names  can  ever  die ; 
Inscribed  not  on  the  hearts  of  men, 

They  meet  the  sleepless  eye. 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  303 

On  earth,  in  hours  of  darkling  fears, 

They  drain'd  the  martyr's  cup. 
Yet  faith's  clear  eye,  undimm'd  by  tears. 

In  trust  to  heaven  look'd  up; 
Permitted  for  awhile  to  view 

The  cloudy  curtain  furl'd — 
Jehovah's  glory  streaming  through 

Upon  the  shrouded  world. 

Around  them  in  its  fury  rang 

The  scorner's  taunting  shout, 
And  swelling  trump,  and  clarion's  clang, 

Death's  wildest  dirge  peal'd  out ; 
But  from  the  calm  blue  sky  aloft, 

To  cheer  each  sinking  soul, 
Celestial  strains  of  music  soft, 

O'er  their  wrapt  senses  stole. 

They  sleep — but  ever  ling'ring  round 

Each  heaven-remember'd  tomb. 
An  angel's  voice,  with  gentle  sound 

Breathes  sweetly  through  the  gloom, 
And  whispers  of  each  martyr'd  son — 

Thus,  thus  the  Spirit  saith — 
They  rest,  their  work  is  nobly  done; 

These  all  have  died  in  faith ! 

And  till  from  death's  calm  sleep  they  wake, 

To  wear  the  diadem. 
Our  mother  Church,  for  Jesus'  sake. 

Will  fondly  cherish  them. 
In  faithful  hearts  their  memory  stored, 

Let  not  their  fame  grow  dim  ; 
These  martyrs  for  their  martyr'd  Lord, 

They  must  be  dear  to  him  ! 


304  POETICAL  REMAINS. 


TO  A  MOTHER. 

A  Roman  lady,  round  whose  snowy  brow 
Rich  diamonds  from  Golconda  brightly  shone, 
And  in  whose  clustering  ringlets  were  display'd 
Pearls  brought  from  far-off  Persia's  fragrant  shores, 
In  the  poor  pride  of  human  vanity. 
Once  boasted  to  a  mother  of  her  gems; 
And  boldly  challenged  her  in  turn  to  show 
Stones  of  such  rich  and  passing  brilliancy. 
The  mother  in  simplicity  array'd, 
(And  in  that  modest  garb  more  lovely  far 
Than  if  for  her  ten  thousand  barks  were  stored 
With  glittering  gems  and  gold  from  Ophir's  shore,) 
Her  fond  heart  beating  with  a  mother's  love 
And  pride  maternal,  to  her  children  turn'd, 
And  mildly  to  her  vaunting  guest  replied, 
There  are  my  jewels. 

Oh,  if  Pagan  lips 
To  such  fond  sentiments  gave  utterance. 
If  Pagan  heart  such  feelings  could  indulge. 
Much  more  the  Christian  mother  should  regard 
Her  children  as  her  gems;  much  more  her  heart 
With  such  emotions  ever  should  be  warm'd. 
Thou  hast  such  jewels — ^^jewels  highly  prized, 
And  fitted  for  a  mother's  ornaments. 
But  oh  remember,  they  are  not  thine  own. 
But  only  lent  thee  for  a  little  while, 
And  He  who  gave  will  one  day  take  away — 
And  blessed  be  His  name.     Yes,  one  by  one. 
They  will  be  lost  on  earth,  their  radiance  fade, 
And  in  death's  gloomy  caverns  all  be  merged. 

So  then  remember,  mother,  train  them  up. 
And  educate  them  for  a  better  sphere. 
Early  to  Jesus  bring  them  ;  early  feed 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  305 

Their  panting  spirits  with  the  bread  of  life. 
So  when  these  scenes  have  vanished  all  away, 
And  the  glad  resurrection  morning  beams 
Bright  through  the  dim  and  dusty  sepulchre, 
And  in  the  pomp  of  heavenly  majesty, 
The  Saviour  comes  to  make  his  jewels  up. 
He  for  His  own  shall  claim  them ;  and  thy  gems 
Shall  shine  forever  in  His  diadem, 
Borrowins  their  lustre  from  their  Master's  brow. 


39 


ARCHBISHOP  CRANMER. 

The  Church  can  boast  of  many  a  son 

Meet  for  a  mother's  gem. 
Who  victor-palms  in  death  have  won — 

Right  well  she  honours  them  ! 
And  yet  no  brighter  name  than  thine 
Is  written  'mid  the  hosts  that  shine 

Around  her  diadem; 
And  well  thy  epitaph  might  be, 
"She  hath  no  worthier  son  than  he." 

But  iron  superstition  fain 

O'er  all  thy  course  would  frown, 
And  leave  with  guilty  hands  a  stain 

Upon  thy  fair  renown. 
There  is  a  stain  we  cannot  veil. 
For  thou  wast  man,  and  man  is  frail ; 

Yet  dims  it  not  thy  crown, 
Nor  mars  the  whiteness  of  thy  vest, 
In  the  calm  paradise  of  rest. 

One  dark  spot  on  yon  glorious  orb, 

The  monarch  of  the  sky. 
Can  ne'er  his  golden  rays  absorb, 

Or  hide  from  mortal  eye. 
And  shall  a  single  stain  obscure 


.'i06  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

A  life  like  lliino,  so  meek  and  pure? 

Oh  !   if 't  is  writ  on  high — 
That  hour  of  weakness,  darkness,  doubt — 
Some  angel's  tear  will  blot  it  out. 

O'er  troubled  seas  a  gallant  bark, 

VVhen  tempests  meet  to  play, 
And  storm-clouds  round  her  hover  dark. 

Holds  proudly  on  her  way  ; 
Then  bounding  o'er  some  billow's  brink, 
Mid  the  wild  waters  seems  to  sink. 

Yet  mounts  above  the  spray; 
While  moon-beams  struggling  through  the  clouds 
Fall  dimly  on  her  tatter'd  shrouds: 

And  then,  the  angry  waves  endured, 

And  the  wild  tempest  o'er. 
In  calmer  tides  she's  safely  moor'd 

Beside  the  wish'd-for  shore. 
Thus  for  awhile  that  fiery  storm, 
Meek  prelate !  crush'd  thy  aged  form. 

Too  sternly  tried  before; 
Yet  soon  the  hour  of  weakness  pass'd, 
For  thou  wast  victor  at  the  last. 

And  if  there  be,  who  aught  require 

To  wash  that  stain  away  ; 
A  baptism  of  blood  and  fire 

Hath  purged  thy  mortal  clay; 
And  'mid  the  flames,  with  quivering  breath, 
Thou  'st  own'd  thy  Master  to  the  death  : 

So  brightly  closed  thy  day. 
Though  transient  clouds  and  shadows  dun 
Flitted  across  its  evening  sun. 

But  once  thy  noble  spirit  droop'd  ; 

But  once,  with  weary  wing, 
Down  to  the  earth  in  weakness  stoop'd 


POETIC  A  J.  KlilMAlNS.  307 

III  all  thy  journeying; 
Then  catching  fresher  vigor  flew 
Up  to  its  heavenward  path  anew  ; 

And  now,  where  anthems  ring, 
From  martyrs,  saints,  and  seers  of  old, 
Nor  faith  can  fail,  nor  love  grow  cold. 


BISHOP  WHITE. 

The  white-hair'd  warder  's  gone, 

Whom  Zion  hath  trusted  most. 
Who  had  marshall'd  at  the  chill  gray  morn 

Her  sacramental  host : 
The  Master  came  when  the  day  was  worn — 

He  was  watching  at  his  post. 

He  stood  on  Salem's  walls 

With  spirit  of  lofty  trust. 
When  her  children  turn'd  from  her  festivals, 

And  her  shrines  were  in  the  dust  ; 
For  he  bounded  forth  at  her  stirring  calls, 

The  foremost  and  the  first. 

The  noontide  sun  stream'd  out 

With  its  fiercest  fullest  glare — 
As  in  that  twilight  of  gloom  and  doubt 

The  warder  still  was  there; 
And  his  deep  response  to  the  victor's  shout, 

Was  a  strain  of  grateful  prayer. 

Then  the  deeper  shadows  fell, 
And  the  hymns  of  joy  rose  wild, 

And  banners  waved  on  the  breeze's  swell 
From  turrets  to  heaven  piled  : 

Yet  the  soul  which  sorrow  could  never  quell, 
Was  tranquil,  and  meek,  and  mild. 


308  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

One  prayer  for  Zion's  rest, 
For  the  mitred  brotherhood, 

The  prelates  his  gentle  hand  had  bless'd 
In  the  faith  of  the  holy  rood — 

Then  on  to  his  Master's  home  he  press'd. 
That  patriarch  wise  and  good. 

No  steeds  of  glowing  flame, 

No  fiery  chariots  driven, 
Caught  up  from  the  earth  his  mortal  frame ; 

But  the  faithful's  prayers  were  given, 
^''[  That  up  from  a  hundred  temples  came — 

These  wing'd  his  soul  to  heaven. 

The  Sabbath  sunbeams  shone 

When  his  mild,  meek  eye  grew  dim. 

When  he  pass'd  with  never  a  moan 
To  the  sainted  seraphim. 

And  Zion  weeps  for  herself  alone,— 
She  must  not  weep  for  him  ! 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  ARCHBISHOP  LAUD. 

Servant  of  God,  well  done;  well  hast  thou  fought 

The  better  fight,  who  single  hast  maintain'd 

Against  revolted  multitudes  the  cause 

Of  truth,  in  word  mightier  than  they  in  arms ; 

And  for  the  truth  of  testimony  hast  borne 

Universal  reproach,  far  worse  to  bear 

Than  violence ;  for  this  was  all  thy  care 

To  stand  approved  in  sight  of  God,  though  worlds 

Judged  thee  perverse. — Paradise  Lost,  Book  VI. 

If  stern  reproach  from  age  to  age, 

If  fiercest  trials  borne, 
And  specious  lies  on  history's  page 

With  epithets  of  scorn, 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  309 

Or  life  laid  meekly  down  for  truth — 
If  such  must  be  before,  in  sooth, 

The  martyr's  crown  is  won. 
How  well  the  Church  may  number  thee 
Amid  that  glorious  company. 

"The  rude  eye  of  rebellion"  glared 

Upon  thy  long  career  ; 
Yet  all  for  truth  that  spirit  dared. 

Which  scoft',  reproach,  and  jeer. 
The  hosts  of  anarchy  array'd, 
The  red  axe,  and  death's  grim  parade 

Could  never  shake  with  fear: 
Oh  may  the  primate's  mitre  now, 
And  ever,  bind  as  firm  a  brow ! 

Thou  wert  too  stern,  and  didst  deserve, 

'T  is  said,  that  bitter  wrath  ; 
Too  stern  at  least  to  shrink  or  swerve 

From  duty's  narrow  path  ; 
Too  stern  to  bend  to  lawless  bands 
Who  threaten'd  with  unholy  hands 

Throne,  altar,  household  hearth: 
Who  breasts  and  braves  a  storm  so  rough 
Must  needs  be  made  of  sterner  stuff. 

Thou  hadst  thy  faults  ;  but  what  were  they 

Who  branded  thee  with  crime  ; 
Who  scoff'd  above  thy  bleeding  clay, 

And  flung  their  taunts  to  time? 
Oh  !  shame  that  those  malignant  jeers 
Should  echo  yet  in  these  far  years. 

And  in  this  distant  clime: 
'T  is  time  the  sons  should  quench  the  fires 
Lit  up  by  their  relentless  sires. 

Ay  !  what  were  they  whom  latter  days. 
Which  still  distain  thy  dust, 


310  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

Have  graced  with  epithets  of  praise, 

Urn,  mound,  and  storied  bust? 
The  men  whose  deeds  in  glory  shine. 
While  foul  dishonour  blackens  thine? 

Let  broken  faith  and  trust, 
A  murder'd  king  and  trampled  laws, 
Proclaim  how  holy  was  their  cause. 

Thou  hadst  thy  faults;  yet  thine  a  heart 

Pure,  honest,  faithful,  true, 
That  would  not  stoop  to  petty  art, 

A  universe  to  sue  ; 
A  soul,  when  fiercest  tempests  woke 
Their  wrath,  that  could  not  bend — and  broke- 
All  done  that  man  might  do; 
When  waves  the  sinking  bark  o'erwhelm, 
The  firmest  hand  must  yield  the  helm. 

Peace  to  thy  ashes:  gently  laid 

Beneath  a  reverend  dome 
That  towers  in  Oxford's  holy  shade, 

Thy  cherish'd  boyhood's  home ; 
Where  soothing  praise  and  withering  sneer 
Can  pierce  no  more  the  dull  cold  ear. 

With  toils  for  her  o'ercome,* 
'T  was  meet  that  thou  at  last  shouldst  rest 
Upon  thine  Alma  Mater's  breast. 

Time  may  do  justice  yet — disperse 
The  shadows  from  thy  fame, 

And  bid  the  bards  of  deathless  verse 
Thy  deeds  and  worth  proclaim, 

While  history's  hoary  sages  write 

In  characters  of  living  light 


'  The  Archbishop  was  Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  and  most  in- 
defatigable in  his  exertions  for  her  welfare. 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  311 

Thy  venerated  name, 
And  other,  worthier  hands  than  mine, 
Inscribe  thy  viartyr''d  memory'' s  shrme. 

Yet  what  were  praise  of  man  to  thee, 

When  fear  could  bring  no  snare? 
Thy  toil  was  for  eternity, 

God's  favour  all  thy  care; 
Striving  for  truth,  nor  smile,  nor  frown, 
Could  gild  or  dim  the  promised  crown 

Thy  victor  brows  will  wear. 
VVith  God's  approving  glance  to  cheer 
Man's  smile  or  frown  must  disappear. 


THE  PARISH  CLERK  OF  "BISHOP'S  BORNE." 

The  individual  who  was  clerk  of  this  parish  when  the  meek  and  matchless 
Richard  Hooker  was  rector  of  the  same,  survived  him  many  years,  and  lived 
even  to  the  times  of  the  great  rebellion ;  and  up  to  the  latest  moment  of  his  life, 
entertained  the  greatest  reverence  and  affection  for  the  memory  of  Hooker.  He 
died  from  grief  and  indignation,  occasioned  in  the  manner  about  to  be  related: 
The  then  rector  of  the  parish  being  sequestered,  a  "  Genevan  minister  "  was 
put  into  the  living  of  Bishop's  Borne.  The  first  step  the  intruder  took  was  to 
administer  the  sacrament  in  the  "  Genevan  "  manner.  When  the  stools  or  seats 
were  placed  about  the  altar,  the  poor  old  clerk  looked  on  in  astonishment  and 
indignation,  and  upon  being  told  by  the  intruding  minister — "to  cease  wonder- 
ing, and  to  lock  the  Church  door,"  thus  answered — "  Pray  take  you  the  keys, 
and  lock  me  out.  I  will  never  come  more  into  this  Church ;  for  all  men  will 
say  my  master  Hooker  was  a  good  man,  and  a  good  scholar ;  and  I  am  sure 
that  it  was  not  used  to  be  thus  in  his  days."  Report  says  the  old  man  went 
presently  home  and  died, —  Gathered  from  Walton  s  Life  of  Hooker. 

Dark  times,  when  sternest  hearts  might  quail. 

For  hope  seem'd  lost,  forsooth  ! 
Yet  faith  there  was  too  strong  to  fail 

In  hoary  age  and  youth  ; 
Knight,  prelate,  monarch  on  his  throne — 


312  POETICAL  REMAINS. 

Such  came — yet  came  not  such  alone — 

To  do  and  die  for  truth  ; 
For  honest  names  of  low  degree 
Were  writ  amid  that  company. 

Some  slowly  sank  in  calm  despair, 

Some  perish'd  on  the  block, 
Some  stood  amid  rebellion's  glare 

Like  billow-beaten  rock ; 
Some  fell  where  war's  grim  shadows  lower'd, 
And  thick  and  fast  the  death-shots  shower'd. 

While  broken  with  the  shock, 
Were  humbler  hearts,  round  which  would  cling 
Rev'rence  to  Church,  and  law,  and  king. 

Such  heart  had  he — that  lowly  man — 

His  name  unknown  I  ween; 
For  meek  and  mild  the  course  he  ran, 

As  brook  in  forests  green : 
Whose  very  murmurs  are  unheard 
Save  by  some  little  woodland  bird. 

And  in  sequester'd  scene, 
Away  from  tumult,  noise,  and  strife, 
He  pass'd  his  unpretending  life. 

In  early  youth  his  little  feet 

The  sanctuary  press'd, 
And  there  in  age  his  hours  were  sweet 

With  cherish'd  memories  bless'd. 
He  loved  the  Church  with  order  due. 
Altar  and  chancel,  desk  and  pew, 

And  priest  in  snowy  vest : 
He  loved  the  prayers  of  his  dear  mother, 
No  better  knew  nor  asked  for  other. 

But  men  arose  to  changes  given, 
Scoffers  at  things  divine, 


40 


POETICAL  REMAINS.  313 

And  soon  each  holy  spell  was  rivea 

Thut  hung  about  that  shrine. 
The  handiwork  of  other  days, 
Time-hallowed  strains  of  prayer  and  praise, 

Their  wonted  place  resign  ; 
And  quiet  faith  and  rev'rence  flee, 
With  decent  pomp  and  liturgy. 

When  next  the  old  man  sought  the  fane, 

He  found  all  alter'd  there; 
For  voices  hymned  a  meaner  strain, 

And  breathed  a  cheerless  prayer. 
And  men  had  grown  too  proud  to  kneel 
To  take  salvation's  sign  and  seal  : 

And  so,  in  calm  despair, 
He  turned  away,  and  never  more 
Darken'd  the  desecrated  door. 

Where  could  he  go  ibr  solace  then  ' 

His  quiet  household  hearth, 
His  loved  ones  of  the  race  of  men 

Had  passed  away  from  earth  : 
Rebellion  made  her  rude  abode 
The  place  where  all  his  joys  had  flowed. 

Home  of  his  second  birth. 
Back  to  his  lonely  cot  he  hied. 
Wept  for  the  fallen  Churcii— and  died. 

Hour  of  a  mighty  empire's  doom, 

A  monarch's  overthrow, 
A  Church  enwrapt  in  cheerless  gloom, 

And  law  and  right  laid  low! 
And  can  an  individual  fate 
Render  the  scene  more  desolate? 

Go  bid  the  ages  know, 
If  ye  would  all  its  wo  impart, 
The  fate  of  such  an  honest  heart. 


314  POETICAL    REMAINS. 

LATIMER  AND  RIDLEY. 

"  Be  of  good  comfort,  Mr.  Ridley,  and  play  the  man ;  we  shall  this  day  light 
such  a  candle,  by  God's  grace,  in  England,  as  I  trust  shall  never  be  put  out." — 
Bishop  Latimer  to  Bishop  liidleij,  at  the  stake.     Vide  ^'Book  of  Martyrs." 

Those  men  of  hoary  hair 

Blanched  by  the  mitre's  weight--- 
Hovv  calmly  'mid  the  flame's  wild  glare 

They  meet  their  fearful  fate. 
Bright  their  prophetic  smile, 

As,  with  undying  fire, 
Wan  superstition  lights  that  pile — 

Their  everlasting  pyre. 

■^™t^  They  knew  the  flame  then  lit 
'^S^F'     A  darkened  earth  would  daze, 

That  worlds  would  read  their  story  writ 

In  its  unfading  blaze ; 
That  by  its  lustre  shed 

Along  the  ages'  track, 
Would  idol  worshippers  be  led 
To  God's  pure  temple  back: 

That  in  each  reverend  fane 

Where  erst  the  fathers  trod, 
A  better  and  an  elder  strain 

Would  mount  to  Zion's  God: 
That  where  they  knelt  in  youth, 

That  where  they  wept  in  age,  v 

Would  gleam  the  glorious  Gospel  Truth 

From  uncorrupted  page. 

Along  the  rocky  strand, 

On  many  a  verdant  hill. 
That  guards  and  crowns  their  father  land, 

That  flame  is  burning  still; 
For  where  low  homesteads  blest, 


POETICAL    REMAINS.  815 

And  lordly  towers  appear, 

The  martyr's  faith  is  still  confest, 
The  martyrs'  names  are  dear. 

Jesu  !  throughout  all  time, 

May  that  pure  light  illume 
Each  cheerless  realm,  and  darkling  clime, 

Of  shadow  and  of  gloom  ; 
Till,  where  a  footstep  falls, 

In  forest,  desert,  glen — 
Till  'mid  the  "  Eternal  City's"  walls, — 

They  bless  those  reverend  men. 

All  praise  for  faith  like  theirs ! — 

VVith  never  ending  strife. 
In  love  unfeigned,  with  ceaseless  prayers, 

Their  spirits  toiled  through  life. 
And,  when  the  dealh-hour  came. 

Fierce  fires  around  them  curled, 
Their  wearied  bodies  fed  the  flame. 

That  lights,  to  Christ,  a  world. 


THE  PICTURE. 

"the  COU^iTF.RFEIT   PRF.SF.NTMENT  of  two   RROTHETIS," 

Suggested  by  a  beautiful  painting  by  Inman,  in  the  possession  of  Bishop  Doane. 

Two  gentle  boys  with  winning  mien, 

Soft  eye  and  sunny  cheek. 
Upon  the  votive  canvass  seen — 

I  almost  hear  them  speak  ! 
A  little  arm  of  each  is  thrown 

So  sweetly  round  the  other. 
As  if  to  say  that  each  had  known 

None  dearer  than  his  brother; 
And  merrily  in  pictured  play. 
They  laugli  the  rosy  hours  away. 


316  POETICAL    REMAINS. 

1  would  your  hearts  might  ever  be 

Each  in  the  other  shrined, 
As  there  your  painted  forms  I  see 

So  lovingly  entwined  ; 
I  would  that  time  might  pass  you  by, 

And  leave  the  placid  brow, 
The  dimpled  cheek,  and  laughing  eye, 

As  calm  and  bright  as  now  : 
Thus  might  the  picture  ever  be 

The  image  of  reality. 

I  know  a  father's  fervent  prayer 

Will  day  by  day  ascend, 
A  mother's  hopes  to  heaven  repair, 

That  God  may  be  your  friend; 
1  know  the  Church's  holy  love 

Upon  you  will  be  poured. 
To  win  your  feet  her  paths  to  prove, 

To  lead  you  to  her  Lord : 
Her  gentle  efforts,  Jesus  bless. 
And  guide  them  to  thy  righteousness  ! 

With  spirits  firmly  knit,  dear  boys, 

In  pure  affection's  ties. 
Together  share  the  griefs  and  joys 

That  cloud  or  light  your  skies ; 
Ye  will  need  all  the  sympathy 

A  brother's  love  can  pour, 
A  solace  and  a  charm  to  be. 

Ere  the  rough  road  is  o'er ;  '■«'/jL-'- 

And  with  a  brother's  kind  caress, 
The  toilsome  way  will  weary  less. 

And  if  ye  ere  in  after  days, 

In  some  familiar  scene. 
Upon  the  fair  presentment  gaze 

Of  what  ye  once  had  been, 


POETICAL    REMAINS.  317 

And  think,  alas  !  the  cherub-face, 

The  lock  of  golden  hue, 
The  brow  untouched  by  care's  dark  trace, 

No  counterfeit  of  you  ; 
Still  may  ye  feel  the  holy  flame 
Of  love  fraternal  glow  the  same. 

Then  earlj''  to  your  Maker  bring 

Those  yet  unsullied  hearts, 
Ere  grief  their  tender  chords  can  wring, 

Or  sin's  beguiling  arts, 
Or  earth  with  countless  witcheries. 

From  better  things  can  lure, 
That  He  may  train  them  up  as  His, 

That  He  may  keep  them  pure ; 
The  pure  in  heart  shall  be  his  sons — 
God  guard  and  bless  you,  gentle  ones! 


A 


$: 


Pr.inceton   Theological   Seminary   Librarl 


1    10 


2   01196   6597 


